


Awakening

by ban_sidhe



Series: Nightmare, (This Animal I have Become) [1]
Category: The Chronicles of Riddick Series
Genre: F/M, Other, sequel to "Nightmare"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-09-26 22:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ban_sidhe/pseuds/ban_sidhe
Summary: Riddick regains his memory, *Lyliath and Ryngal reunite, the rebels rise up, people die, Riddick finds a ship, he goes back to settle some scores.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *before an 'l' in a name denotes the 'click' sound as Tsonga. 
> 
> Characters Lady *Lyliath and Master of Hounds Can*ly also included. Stupid program wouldn't let me post them above.

**Awakening**

Leaving his stunned, frozen captors behind, the big man moved quickly through the forest.  He knew it would not be long before they recovered from their shock. Then they would follow and attempt to recapture him.  He was too valuable, too dangerous to simply let go because he wished it.  But he’d had enough of captivity; being forced to do as others wanted.

                                                                                    ++++++++

Freedom was like air to him.   Without it, he would wither and die.  Maybe not physically, but if the soul dies, what’s the point of breathing?  And he wasn’t ready to die yet.  He never gave in; always accepted whatever challenge life threw at him.  And survived.

He just wished he could remember more.  How he got here; why he was here. What happened before that he needed to be here.  He knew there was a ‘before’, that this place, (planet?), wasn’t his home.

The disjointed flashes of memory were maddening.  Nothing seemed to fit together.  At least he’d finally remembered his name; ‘Riddick’.  It had a dark sound to it; connotations of fear and anger.  For some reason, that both pleased and annoyed him.

He could hear it being spoken by many different voices, but they all seemed to say it the same way.  Fearful, angry, filled with disgust and hate.  All but one; a child’s voice; a girl on the edge of womanhood.  

**She** didn’t fear him.  Said his name like she adored him.  He wished he could remember her face, but all he could bring to mind was her scent.  Wholesome, innocent, child-like, but with that delicious scent of female about to come into heat, the sweet blood of fertility.  The animal in him licked its chops and he growled right along with it.

Which reminded him of the little ebony-haired beauty he’d left in the tree-top.  Should he go back for her?  He had not said anything to her about his returning, but neither had he told her how long she should stay in her nest.  If she was even still there.  He didn’t think the jagile would have returned so soon, but decided to go check anyway.

*Lyliath’s first clue on the return of the prince’s big demon was when his face suddenly appeared between the branches on the down side of her nest.  She squeaked in shock, covering her mouth with her hands to prevent her little scream from escaping.  He grinned at her huge eyes and shudder of fear.

“Don’t do that!”  She hissed in reaction, embarrassed more than angered.

“What?”  He rumbled, cocking his head to one side.  He moved into the nest, pleased to see she didn’t move away from him.   _Gutsy little thing_ , he thought, with a smirk twitching the corners of his full lips.  He noticed she still moved as though she was in pain when she stood, using a branch to help pull herself upright.

“Where’re you hurt?”  He growled, looking her over.   She raised surprised eyes to search his face.  She saw nothing there but simple curiosity.  Since he had figured that much out, she saw no point in hiding where from him.

“My side, ribs I think.  I must have hit something hard when I jumped.”   She put her hand to her left side, almost cupping her breast as she held her ribs.

“Mmm.  Lemme see.”  He reached out and now she moved, stepping back and leaning away.  The big man frowned and dropped his arm back to his side.  “I ain‘t gonna hurt ya, Beautiful.  I just wanna make sure nothing’s broken.”

He dropped down to crouch before her.  “You’re gonna have to try and keep up with me.  I need to know how much you’re gonna slow me down.”

*Lyliath just stared at him, confused.  “I don’t understand.  You expect me to just follow you back there?  I’d rather die out here.”  As she waved her arm to encompass the surrounding forest, he smiled again and tipped his head up, taking a deep breath, obviously enjoying taking in her scent.  From his position, his head was level with her breasts and he was definitely looking.

About to make a sharp comment, she abruptly noticed a difference in him.  Before she thought, she leaned forward and touched his throat.  He pulled his head back and to one side a little, but otherwise did not move.  But he did growl quietly; she could feel the vibration under her fingers.  And his skin was so warm and smooth, almost silken under her touch, her fingers tingled pleasantly.

“Where is your collar?  How did you get it off? Ryngal would never free you; he’s too proud of the fact that he owns you.”  She jerked her hand away when his low growl scaled up into a real snarl and his eyes flashed.

“I took it off.”  At her raised brows and unbelieving expression, he sneered, “Just reached up and snapped the damn thing in two.  If I’d a known it came off that easy, I’d a done it months ago.  Nobody owns me!”  He snapped, scowling. 

“You freed yourself?  We must flee from here quickly, then.  They will surely hunt you down and kill you if they can.”  

Frowning in concentration as she thought about what to do, the Lady *Lyliath wondered if she should mention the possible rebel camp reputed to be hidden in these woods.  Thinking that this creature could be an asset to them if they could be found, she realized she had to stop thinking of him as an animal.

He was a man, as much as those who had enslaved him.  That much was apparent from that last angry comment.  And it appeared he was very intelligent, well versed in the art of survival, as well.  She decided to chance giving him the information.  After all it was highly unlikely that he’d tell the prince.  And she needed his help to find the insurrectionists, if they were really out here.

“Tracker, I have been told there is a rebel camp in these woods somewhere.  We could try to find them.  They might be able to hide us.”  She watched his face closely as he took in her words.

“Oh, they’re here.  ‘Bout two days north.  Next valley over, beyond the falls.”  He stood and looked down at her.  “My name is Riddick.”  He quirked a little grin when she seemed surprised.

“Oh.  How did you know?  …Riddick?  Will you take me there?”  *Lyliath deliberately reached to him, laying her fingers gently on his arm.  She was trying to force herself past her fear; he had said he would not harm her.   Again she felt that warm tingle.  

“I can smell them.  Their fires and cooking.  The horses, too.”  He grinned at her wide eyes.  “When the wind is right I can even hear them, singing and laughing.”  

*Lyliath shivered in renewed fright.  “Are you human?”  She whispered, nearly to herself.

Chuckling, Riddick murmured back, “Not your kind of human.  I’m Furyan.  The animal side’s real close to the surface with me, even on a good day.   Piss me off and it comes out to play.”  He continued to laugh quietly.  “Now let me see those ribs.  We need to get moving.”

She stood still and allowed him to lift the tabard up on her injured side.  Trying to keep relaxed, she closed her eyes.  She gasped, a little ‘ah’ escaping when his heated fingers brushed gently over the large bruise on her side.  

“Hurts?”   He murmured.

“No, not really.  You just surprised me.”  She smiled at him.

“I am going to press on your ribs now.  Don’t jump and try to keep quiet.  Even if it hurts.  Just put your hand on me if you want me to stop.”  She nodded, acquiescing to his commands.  Feeling the flat of his palm pressing in, *Lyliath hissed at the pain, but he had removed it before she could push him away.

Sighing unhappily, he frowned at her.  Then he pulled a blade from his pants making her gasp again.  But all he did was lift her cloak and cut a wide strip off the bottom.

Standing again, Riddick looked down on the tiny violet-eyed beauty that trembled before him.  She was trying so hard not to be afraid.  Reminded him of Jack, when they’d first met. 

Suddenly realizing he had a name to go with that sweet scent in his memory, he exhaled sharply and closed his eyes, swallowing reflexively.  “Jack”; it was almost torn out of him.  Why did the name cause him such pain he wondered, as his heart clenched and his throat closed?

Watching the big man’s face suddenly crumple in pain scared *Lyliath.  What was wrong with him?  Then he whispered a name and it appeared he would weep.  His hands closed into fists around the material he’d cut from her wrap and his whole body shuddered.  He took another deep breath and shook off whatever it was.

Ignoring the confused look she gave, Riddick lifted the tabard again.  “Hold this up.”  He took the long strip of cloth and wound it snugly around her midsection tying it off in front so the knot sat between and just below her breasts.

*Lyliath was fine until he licked his lips and his fingertips brushed the lower curves as he tightened the knot.  When he lifted glowing eyes to hers and inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring in excitement, she pushed his hands away.

“Riddick, no!  Please don’t.”  She gasped.  Trying to back away, she bumped into the branch behind her.  He blinked, his face taking on the cold, closed expression he usually wore and he growled.

“C’mon.  Move.”  He snarled and turned to climb down the trunk.  He waited for her at the bottom, watching as she carefully slithered down to the ground.  He gave her no time to catch her breath, moving off immediately. She gathered herself and took off after him.


	2. Chapter 2

                                                                                      II

Prince Ryngal was torn.  He wanted nothing more than to tear off through the forest after the big tracker.  ‘Riddick’ the man had named himself. 

He knew it was a foolish idea.  He could probably never find the tracker’s trail, let alone keep up with him.  Can*ly had the right of it.  Send back for more trackers and wait here patiently.

Their main reason for being out here was to find his cousin, anyway.  If they caught up with his errant tracker, even better.  But they had to collect her remains first.  He felt they must be nearby; the tracker, ( _ No, his name is Riddick.  I must remember that. _ ), had not mentioned it the previous night, but had this morning.

He sighed again, still sitting on the heavy log before the fire where he’d been since Artuis had cleaned and dressed the cut on his neck.  The one he had received when Riddick had declared his freedom.  He wondered again why the man had not simply slit his throat and been done with it.

He glanced up at the approach of his Master of Hounds, not liking the expression on the man’s face.

“What is it, Can*ly?  What is it now?”

“I followed his trail as far as I safely could, my Prince.  He is not making the slightest attempt to hide it.  It’s almost as if he was daring us to follow him.”  At the prince’s frown, he added, “I warned you not to trust him.  He’s a wily one.  I believe he thinks to pick us off one by one, should we track him.”

“I would not blame him one bit, Can*ly.  Not after what we’ve done to him.”  Ryngal declared sadly.

“We saved his life!”  The Master exclaimed, hotly.  “I don’t understand why you persist in acting as though he was truly human.  You’ve seen the way he behaves.  He’s an animal, a vicious animal!” 

Shaking his head as he sank down beside his boyhood friend and liege lord, Can*ly spoke more softly, almost awed by his own words.  “I have never trained a tracker so quickly, my Prince.  It was almost as if he already knew everything I had to teach.  The hardest part was in getting him to submit to my commands.  I never showed him anything more than once.  Many times he even continued on with more than I showed him; like he knew what was expected, what came next.”  He shook his head again.

“He frightens me, Ryngal.  He’s too intelligent to leave free.  He  **will** come back and exterminate us.  He’s a monster.  He enjoys it, the blood and pain.  But especially the fear he inspires.  I had to keep him separate from the others, not for his safety, but for theirs.  Did you know he slaughtered two of the Rykengoll the first day he was introduced to the pack? With just his bare hands and teeth?” 

The Master shivered in reaction as he remembered that horrific scene.  The Furyan had literally torn the Golls apart with no apparent provocation, then casually sauntered across the training ring and sat down in the shade to lick himself clean.  When called back, he glared at the trainer and then laughed. 

They’d had to shock him unconscious to get him back in his cage.  His attitude had never really changed, Can*ly realized.  He’d just gotten more careful, more subtle in his defiance.  Patient.  Waiting for his chance.  And as soon as it had come, he had grabbed it with both hands.

“You never told me that.”  The prince frowned. “A very definite way of establishing his dominance, I suppose.  Making sure he’d be left alone.”

“It certainly did that.  Scared half my assistants near to pissing themselves, too.   You wouldn’t believe how much trouble I had just trying to get them to haul him back to the kennel.”   Both men smiled ruefully and sat quietly, thinking while waiting for food to be brought.

The tracking party spent all that day and half the next waiting for the rest of the pack to arrive.  When they finally understood who they were to track, the handlers had all they could do to hold them back.  And the three remaining Rykengoll were out front the entire time, slavering and calling to each other gleefully.  They remembered.

Riddick and *Lyliath climbed all day, moving higher through the deciduous forest and into a more open coniferous wood as they approached the peak of the mountain.  Except for a short rest around noon where the Furyan hid himself under the deep shade of a large fir-like tree, he pushed her unmercifully. 

*Lyliath crawled in beside him, making herself as comfortable as she could.  She watched him scoop the dead needles into a pile and settle into it, closing his eyes and immediately dropping into a light doze.  Copying his actions, she glanced at him to see a slight smile and he nodded once in approval.  She felt inordinately proud of herself for pleasing him.  

All too soon he stirred, yawning and stretching like a big cat.  Watching *Lyliath breathe softly in sleep, he reached over and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Wake up, Beautiful.  Time to go.”  The deep, raspy rumble startled her out of sleep as much as the soft touch on her arm.   She sighed, sitting up and trying to brush the fir needles out of her hair and off her cloak.  Grumbling to herself as she tried fruitlessly to untangle the rats’ nest her long, wavy, ebony locks had become, she looked up when she heard the rustle of him moving.

“C’mere.  Turn around.”  He pointed at the ground between his knees.  

“Why?”  She swallowed nervously, not moving.

Scowling, he growled at her.  “Thought I’d help, but if you don’t want…”  He shrugged, preparing to leave their shelter.

“Oh.  I… I’m sorry.”  She dropped her eyes to the ground, unable to face that fierce silver stare.

“Don’t apologize.  Sign of weakness.”  He snapped at her.  She flicked her eyes back to him, but he didn’t seem really upset.  So she crawled to him and sat with her back to him, her head lowered.  She was surprised by his gentleness when he began to comb his fingers through her long, tangled tresses. 

It did not take him long to pick all the fir needles out and then he braided her hair into a long tail.  He sliced a piece off her other sleeve and tied off the plait, folding it several times and binding it at the base of her neck.  He left his fingers resting at the sides of her throat for a moment and she heard him scent her again, feeling his warm breath fan across her neck and cheek.  

Even as she tensed up, he backed away.  When she turned to see, he had already left the cover of the tree, standing facing upslope.  She watched as he scented the air and listened intently to something she could not hear. 

*Lyliath rubbed her hands over her cheeks, totally confused.  She could not understand this strange being that stood so calmly before her.  One moment he acted so human; kind and gentle, the next he reminded her of nothing so much as one of the large predators that were found in these mountains.  

Riddick looked down at the tiny female crawling out from under the tree.  He swallowed hard once, trying to ignore the appetizing sight of her on hands and knees in front of him.  And she smelled delicious.  It was torture to him.  He knew he wasn’t going to be able to control himself much longer.  He had to get her to her friends in the next valley before he lost it.  Or he was gonna hurt her. 

When she stood, looking to him trustingly, it stabbed him to the heart.  He’d seen that look before and it no longer amused him.  The last time someone had died.  Because of him.  He frowned, rumbling deep in his chest.  Her face changed, now seeming frightened.  Better.  She should be afraid of him.

“Storm coming.  We need to cross the pass before it hits.  You gotta keep up; I’m not exactly dressed for snow.”  He put one hand to his bare chest.  Wide-eyed, she nodded, taking a deep breath, swallowing and licking her lips.  He turned away before she could see how that quick flick of pink tongue had excited him. 

There was a monster coiling in his gut, clawing at his self-control.  He could feel it shiver through the muscles of his lower abdomen and tighten his groin.  A flush of heat passed through him, making him shudder.  He turned uphill and took off at a trot.  Maybe exercise and a little distance would help.  Get her scent out of his nose for a while. 

*Lyliath wondered at the man’s sudden flight.  He seemed in more of a hurry than this morning; something was bothering him but she had no idea what it was.  She took off after him, trying to at least keep him in sight. 

After several hours, she began to tire, slowing imperceptibly but continuously.  She could no longer see Riddick and hoped she was still on his path.  Struggling now, she pushed on, breathing heavily in the altitude’s thinner air. 

Rounding a boulder that stuck out of the steep slope, she came upon a torn up section of trail.  Blood spattered the path for a wide area, even splashed up onto the rock she leaned on.  She touched a finger to it, finding it still wet.  She wrinkled her nose at the stickiness and without thinking, stuck her finger in her mouth.

“Taste good?”  His deep, amused growl sounded over her head.  

“Aiyee!”  She shrieked, stumbling backward.  Her hands automatically flew up to protect her head and she peeked at him through her upraised fingers.  He was covered in red, some actually dripping off his chin.  Wiping at the blood with one hand, he stared directly at her as he licked it off his hand.  

Rather than simply sucking the blood off his fingers, he wrapped his tongue around each, sliding it from the base to the tip before putting the finger in his mouth and slowly sliding it back out with a small pop of released suction.  His eyes glowed blue-silver and he smiled nastily at the shock on her features.

“Gods, Riddick!  You frightened me.  What happened here?  Are you injured?”  *Lyliath tried to contain the pounding of her heart with a hand to her chest.  Why did he keep doing things like this to her?  It seemed to amuse him immensely when he frightened her.  Maybe he liked the smell of fear; she could see his nostrils flaring as he breathed it in. 

“Me?  Nah, just providing you with dinner.”  He chuckled.  “C’mon.  There’s a cave up a little ways.  Just beyond the pass.  You can rest a while.” 

“Good.  I’m exhausted.”  She exhaled heavily.

“You gonna make it?”  He leaped off the boulder, landing silently in front of her.  He looked her over, cocking his head to the side and frowning.  She looked done in, slumped in exhaustion, her face pale, and still breathing with difficulty even though she’d been standing in one spot for several minutes.  

“I have no choice, do I?”  *Lyliath sighed tiredly.  She pressed her hand to her side and shook her head, wincing as she straightened.  The big Furyan scowled and stepping closer, turned his back.  Going down on one knee, he frowned over his shoulder.

“Climb on.”  Hesitating for a moment, she looked at him, uncertain.  “Hurry up.  Before I change my mind and leave you here.”  He growled in frustration. 

“I won’t be too heavy?”  She waffled, unhappy about being that close to him and helpless in his grip.

He laughed, a rough bark that did not sound amused.  “What do you weigh?  Maybe 36 kilos?  I’ve carried four times your weight.  Get on.  Now. You’re wasting time.” 

“As you wish, Riddick.”  *Lyliath stepped close, spreading her legs to press herself as closely as possible to his broad back.  She reached forward, leaning against his warmth and wrapped her hands around his neck. 

He straightened easily, both arms slipping back to grasp her thighs and tuck them around his waist.  Hiking her up until he was comfortable, he tucked his chin down against her clasped hands. 

“Loosen up a little.  You’re choking me.  I won’t drop you.”  Complying, *Lyliath leaned her chin on one arm, putting her face almost directly beside his.  

He strode off, leaning slightly forward to compensate for her weight as he scrambled up the steepest part of their path so far.  It wound amongst huge outcroppings of bedrock, slippery with loose stones.  She was amazed by the ease with which he moved, even carrying her.  He just kept going, not slowing even after hours had passed.

Looking down, *Lyliath was surprised to see frost on some of the overturned rocks as Riddick continued to climb.  Peering forward again when he straightened, she realized they had reached the pass, the trail they followed dropping away in front of them.  She was stunned by the vista that had opened before them.

“Oh!”  She exclaimed.  They overlooked a narrow, fir lined valley.  There was a silvery ribbon winding along the bottom and as her gaze followed it, she saw the falls he had mentioned earlier.  There were patches of snow on this side, in the shadow of large rocks and under some of the thicker areas of wood. 

“Yeah.  Pretty little world you got here.”  He murmured.  Not waiting for a reply, he headed down immediately.  Moving faster than before, he scrambled down the rough trail, steady as a rock hopper.  

“Why are you going so fast?”  She gasped.  “You’re going to fall!”  She clutched him tightly, fearful of the speed he was making down the steep path.  Releasing one leg for a second, he slapped her hands, reminding her not to choke him.  

“Told you.  Storm coming.  See that?”  He nodded in the direction of heavy, dark clouds moving rapidly up the valley toward them.  The land beneath the roiling scud was greyed with falling snow.  Now a cold, wet-feeling wind sprang up, pummeling them suddenly, pushing them against the hillside.  “Gotta get under cover before that hits.  Even I won’t be able to see a thing in that whiteout.”   

“Gods!  I’ve never seen snow in summer.  How much farther?”  She shivered as another gust struck them and leaned closer to the warmth of his body.  Wondering that the cold seemingly did not bother him, even half-naked. 

“Not far now.”  He grunted, sliding on loose scree.  He did not lose his balance, however, continuing on without comment when she clutched tighter.  Glancing behind them, *Lyliath was dismayed to see spots of blood on the path where Riddick had slipped.  She craned her head to the side, eliciting a growl as she threw him off balance.

She straightened immediately, but not before she’d seen where his feet bled.   _ How can he walk like that?  _ she wondered.   _ And he hasn’t even flinched or made a sound.  _

“Riddick, put me down.  I can walk.  You’re hurt.”  She whispered in his ear.  He stopped immediately and let her slide down his back.  It was the only concession he made to his injury.  Glancing at her with a slight frown, he strode silently off, just expecting her to follow.  

Not more than a half hour later, he suddenly turned aside from the path.  Fortunately, *Lyliath had chosen that moment to look up to check on how far ahead he was or she would have completely missed him.  He disappeared around a huge projection of rock seconds after she sighted him. 

Following him around the corner, she found herself facing a slit in the side of the mountain.  She was able to slip through, but wondered how he had managed it, being so much larger.  It was pitch black inside and she stopped instantly, putting a hand out to feel the frigid rock wall beside her.  

Unable to see anything in front of her, she was about to call out when she heard a strange clicking sound.  It came from somewhere deeper in the cave; regular and even. Sudden light bloomed before her, revealing the big man crouched down and doing something almost between his knees.  He carefully dribbled fir needles and scraps of bark from his hand to a small pile of the same in front of him.  Leaning down, he gently blew on it, fanning the tiny flames with his breath.

“Fire!  How did you…?”   She gasped when he looked up, the flames highlighting the planes of his face and reflecting in his mercury eyes.  He looked every inch the demon he’d been called.  There was some kind of dead animal lying beside him, too.  She could smell the blood from where she stood.  This must have been where all the blood he was covered in had come from. 

The big man scowled and moved to one side, reaching for several larger branches.  He placed them precisely over the fire, saving only one forked branch that he stripped of bark.  He laid that one beside his leg and reached for the carcass. 

Moving closer to the fire, *Lyliath sank down on a flat rock across from Riddick.  He glanced up at her, then continued what he was doing without speaking.  She watched him disjoint a hind leg and carve pieces off it.  Efficient and economical in his work, he wasted no motion at all. 

Not even looking at her, he handed her the stick he’d prepared.  When she stared at him, confused, he sneered and offered her a chunk of meat.  She just leaned away from it, curling her lip in displeasure.

Now he looked at her.  “Not hungry?”  He cocked his head, smirking.  Slicing off a small piece, he stared directly at her while popping it into his mouth and chewing happily.

“Raw?”  She shuddered.  “How could you?”

“You might be surprised by what people will do to survive, ‘Lady’ *Lyliath.”  He snarled sarcastically.  He took the stick back from her and skewered the slice of meat before handing it back.  “You want to turn it every few minutes so it cooks evenly.”  Then he stabbed several more pieces onto a second stick and held them over the flames.

She huffed in annoyance.  “You did that on purpose! Just to upset me.  Didn’t you?”  But she held her piece of meat over the flames, turning it as he had instructed.

“People like you, living their comfortable little lives… you got no idea what it’s really like out there in the big, bad universe.  And you think you’re gonna change how things work here?  Hah!” 

He shook his head in disgust, settling cross-legged.  Chewing thoughtfully, he continued.  “You better wake up, Sweetness.  What you want to do is gonna take a lot of sweat, guts… and lives.  You prepared for that?”  

“I’m not so innocent as you seem to think, Riddick.  I know it won’t be easy.  But everyone should have the right to live as they choose.  Freedom should not be a privilege; it should be available to all.”

She stared at him, shocked into silence when he laughed at her.  Throwing his head back, he roared with unbridled glee.  His rough bark echoed off the walls, reverberating around them like an audience of fiends.

Pissed, she attempted to make him understand.  “Why do you find that so amusing?  Don’t you think it only fair that everyone…?”

He stopped laughing as suddenly as he’d begun.  “Life ain’t fair, Beautiful.  Sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.  You take what you can and fuck the other guy.  Or he’ll be fucking you.” 

“It doesn’t have to be that way, Riddick.  People can and do help each other, you know.”  She looked down at his feet.  “Speaking of which, why don’t you let me take a look at those cuts.  They should probably be cleaned.  And we need to find something to cover them with or you’re going to be crippled by tomorrow.  You certainly can’t walk through the snow like that.” 

He scowled at her, “I got it covered, Beautiful.”  He lifted the pelt of the beast he had slaughtered.  Flopping it across his lap, he began scraping the skin side clean of any remaining flesh.  

“We need water, Riddick.”  She murmured. 

“Plenty of snow out there.  Help yourself.”  He snarled, quietly.  

“And just how do I get it in here to melt it?  What do I carry it in?”  He growled, exhaling in annoyance.  Throwing the pelt to one side, he stood over the carcass and grabbed it by one long ear.  Looking back to make sure she was watching, he lifted the head and separated it from the neck with one swift, violent slash.  

He stuck his blade into the jaw and worked it loose, repeating the movement on the other side.  Then he put the blade between his teeth and ripped the jaw off the skull.   Turning the skull upside down, he poked the frail bone of the inner braincase loose and pried the pieces out.  

Righting the head, he held one hand under it, allowing the animal’s brain to slide out and plop squishily into his outstretched hand.  Holding it carefully, he extended his other arm toward *Lyliath.  “Here you go.” 

She shook her head slightly, and then took a deep breath.  Swallowing her distaste, she glanced up to see him watching her as she put out her hands to take the gory thing from him.  

“Good girl.”  He smiled slightly, nodding in approval.  She noted that he placed the bloody pinkish mass gently on top of the carcass.  

“Why are you keeping that?”  She shuddered. “Or do I not really want to know?”

He frowned, and then chuckled.  “It’s a delicacy, Sweetness.  You never had brain before?”  

“Oh, Ancestors!  You’re going to eat that?”  She gagged, lifting one hand to cover her mouth before she noticed it was now blood-smeared.   When it got close enough, she smelled the gore and pulled it away, looking horrified.  “Eww!”  She choked.     

He just chuckled, obviously amused by her squeamishness.  “Actually, no.  I’m gonna use it to tan the hide.”  When she looked at him, a question in her eyes, he explained.  “Rub it on the skin to toughen it.  There’re enzymes in th’ brain that change the fibrous structure of the hide.  Make it tough, but flexible.”

“Oh.”  She was not going to ask him how he knew that.  She had a very strong feeling that she really didn’t want to know.  So she turned away, heading toward the outside.

“Don’t go far.”  His voice followed her, floating eerily through the darkness.

“Don’t worry.  I don’t plan to.”  She snipped back.  Squatting just outside, she shivered and wrapped what was left of her cloak more tightly around herself.  She rubbed out the inside of the skull with snow as best she could, then cleaned her hands before scooping more snow into it and packing it as tightly as possible.  

Finished, she squeezed back inside and placed her impromptu container beside the flames.  She watched, curious, as Riddick sliced several long narrow sections of hide off the larger piece draped across his lap.  Picking up a smaller section he’d previously cut, he poked holes in it all around the edge, and then threaded one of the long pieces thru it.

As what he was fashioning began to take shape, she realized he was making himself a rough sort of moccasin.   Fur on the inside, they would be padded as well as comfortable, while still protecting his feet. 

“That’s amazing!  Where did you learn to do that?”  She blurted. 

“Spent some time on a frozen ball o’ dirt.  Did what I had to to survive.”  Don’t remember when or why.”  He frowned, thinking.  He exhaled, rubbing his forehead, scowl deepening in frustration.

“Don’t try to force it, Riddick.  The memory will return in its own time.”  She soothed him.  When he glanced up from his project, she smiled.  “My cousin was struck on the head as a child.  It took some time, but he eventually regained his memories.  I’m sure you will, too.”

“Why do you care?”  He snarled.

Losing her smile, she replied.  “Honestly?  When you try to remember and can’t, you get cranky.  And frankly, you’re scary when you’re upset.” 

He actually smiled at that.  A real one, not the nasty, cold sneer she usually got.  She was surprised by how it changed his face.  Made him look… human.  

“Better, Beautiful.”  He seemed to approve her being forthright.   Pointing with the blade he held, he reminded her, “Think your snow’s melted.”  

“So it is.  Time to check those cuts of yours.  Let me see your feet.”  She knelt beside him, unwrapping the binding from her hair.  He held her wrist before she could dip it the water.

“Drink first.  You haven’t had anything since this morning.  The air’s dry up here.  You’ll dehydrate faster if you’re not careful.”  She stared at him.

“And you?  You need to drink too, then.”  She held the skull out to him.  He shook his head no.  

“I had plenty.”  He tipped his head toward the carcass.

“Ugh!”  She made a face, covering her mouth with her hand.  “You drank its blood?” 

“Told you.  Do what you have to to survive.  No sense wasting it.”  She just shuddered and closed her eyes and drank.  

“Aggh!  That’s awful!”  Lyliath gagged.  She’d forgotten she was drinking from a semi-clean skull with skin still attached.  The water tasted bloody and smelled worse.  Not surprisingly, Riddick laughed at her.  But nodded in approval, when after grimacing unhappily, she took several more sips.  

“Good girl.  Knew you could do it.”  He straightened one leg.  “Now you can doctor me, since you seem to feel the need.”   He leaned back against the cavern wall.  She made a face, tsking at him and crawled over to examine the nasty slice he gotten from the scree.    

She bathed it as gently as she was able, checking his face frequently to see if she was causing him pain.  Each time she looked up, he stared back, impassive.  Finally finished, she asked him to cut the long strip in half.  When he looked a question, she explained.

“This is pretty deep.  It should probably be stitched, but if I bind it, hopefully it will heal together.”  Without a word, he took the material she offered and sliced it in two.  She wrung it out and wrapped it firmly around the sole of his foot.  Tying it off so the knot was on the outside, close to the top of his arch. 

“Nice job.”  That was his only comment, so she surmised it was all she’d get in thanks.  

“You’re welcome.”  She shot back tartly.  He just raised a brow.

“Time to sleep.  Long climb down tomorrow.”  He spread the skin on the ground and stretched out turning his back to the fire.  *Lyliath sighed, shaking her head in exasperation and made herself comfortable. 


	3. Chapter 3

                                                                                      III

Riddick woke in the small hours of the morning, wondering why the side of his body away from the fire was warmer than the other.  As he took a breath, preparing to sit up, he scented her.  Close.  Opening his eyes, he found himself looking at the top of *Lyliath’s head.  She was curled against him, her back to his chest, head pillowed on his bicep, her cloak flung over them both.  He grinned, settling back down and easing his arm around her tiny frame.

Neither woke again until sunlight penetrated the cave.  He lay quietly, just breathing in her sweet scent, enjoying the animal pleasure of holding a warm body close.  When she sighed and rolled over to face him, snuggling into his chest and hugging him, he smiled, imagining the look on her face when she woke and realized where she was.

He rested his chin on the top of her head, rumbling softly, almost a purr.  She moaned tranquilly, rubbing her face into his chest and sighing.  He stroked her back, from shoulder to hip.  

It was enough to snap her awake, her whole body going rigid in shock.  She slowly tilted her head back, shivering as she looked up at him through long, jet lashes.  He simply gazed back, blinking once, a bemused expression on his face.   

When she gulped, he gave her one of his little smirks.  “Got cold last night?”  Then he lifted his arm off her, allowing her to scramble to her feet.  

“I… I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to… yes, I was freezing.”  She hung her head, blushing furiously.

“Told you not to apologize.”  He growled, but was obviously amused by her discomfort.  Standing, he reached over his head, stretching and yawning.  Then he rolled his head in a circle, once in each direction, cracking his neck.

He squat beside the fire, adding the last few sticks and stirring the embers to make sure they caught.  He sliced more sections of meat and skewered them, offering her one again. 

“Th… thank you.”  She murmured, still unable to look him in the face.  He just grunted in reply, preferring to concentrate on toasting his breakfast.  After they had eaten, Riddick licking his fingers clean, *Lyliath wiping hers on the tail of her tabard, he stood and headed for the outside, carrying the rest of the skin he’d worked on the night before.

“Back in a minute.”  

“Where are you going?”  He scowled back at her. 

“Nature calls, Sweetness.  Thought I’d give you some privacy.  ‘Less you wanna watch?”  He lifted a brow with a smirk.

“Oh.  No!”  She squeaked, when she realized what he’d meant. 

“Didn’t think so.”  He chuckled as he continued on out.  

She sighed; she was definitely going to have to work on her reactions to him, she thought glumly.  He was having altogether too much fun, tweaking her principles, poking at her upbringing.  She knew he thought she’d led a sheltered life.  Wondering if she should explain that even though her family was considered part of the royal line, they were only a minor house.

Both her parents had worked, her mother a lady’s maid to Prince Ryngal’s aunt and her father Huntmaster to the then High Prince, Ryngal’s father.  So even though she knew all the proper niceties of a royal upbringing, she also had much knowledge of the working class.  It was one of the things that had helped to form her heretical ideas.

She finished her necessary business and went to the opening of the cave.  Riddick had not yet returned, so she called softly for him.  He poked his head around a boulder, nodding for her to follow.  As she rounded the curve of the rock face, she saw he had cut slits in the pelt and now wore it like a vest of sorts.  It was laced almost closed across his chest with sinew that he’d stripped from the rock hopper he’d killed yesterday.

They scrambled and slid down the animal path they’d been following since the afternoon of the previous day.  Always out in front, Riddick kept far enough ahead to make sure *Lyliath had to push to keep up.  He would occasionally stop and wait, only long enough for her to catch sight of him, and then he would speed off again.

Finally having had enough just before noon, she called out to him.  She couldn’t catch her breath anymore and her legs were trembling in exhaustion from the strain of holding back so she didn’t just tumble headlong down the slope.  He looked back up to see her hanging on to a wind-twisted fir as if it was the only reason she was still upright.

One hand on the trunk of the dead tree he stood beside, the big man spoke quietly over his shoulder.  “Nice patch of shade around the next bend, Beautiful.  Stream for a drink, too.  You can rest there.”  Then he strode down and around the bend so that she lost sight of him again.  

Blowing out her breath with a whispered, “Gods damn you, Riddick!  I could hate you so easily,” she staggered after him.  Legs quivering, knees aching, *Lyliath finally managed to stumble into the small copse of trees.  As she sank down to rest on a fallen trunk, she realized these were an altitude stunted version of the forest giants from her home valley. 

Riddick was not visible, but she thought he must be close.  He had told her to rest here and he usually came to sit with her when she did.  As soon as she’d caught her breath, she crawled over to the stream and drank. 

It was the sweetest and the coldest water she had ever tasted.  Dipping a corner of her cloak, *Lyliath wiped her face and neck, then as the cloth had warmed, she pushed it into the front of her tabard to clean some of the sweat from between and under her breasts.   Straightening up, she heard the low growl she’d come to associate with him announcing his presence. 

It took all her willpower, but she was able to control her gasp of fear, turning it into a slow, deep breath, as if she was just enjoying the chance to rest and clean up.  She looked carefully around before she stood, but still did not see him.  A puzzled frown on her face, she turned 180 degrees, now peering back up the path.

“Up here, Sweetness.”  The deep chuckle sounded from almost over her head.  Now she did gasp in surprise as her head automatically swiveled up to where his voice had sounded.  He slid off the limb and leaned back against the trunk, but still seemed to loom over her.  She wondered at the strange expression on his face.

He scented her again, his eyes falling half-closed.  Reaching down and cupping himself, he smiled lazily and growled again.

“You’d better get away from me, Beautiful.”

“What’s wrong?  Are you ill?”

“No.”  He chuckled again, evilly this time.  “Leave.  Now, while you still can.”

“I don’t understand, Riddick.  Yesterday you helped me, even carried me.  You didn’t seem to mind my being near; you kept sniffing me… touched me every chance you got.  Now you want me to go away?”

“You’re coming into season.  I can smell you.  You need to go… find something strong smelling, rub yourself with tree sap… Hells, go stick your ass in the brook.  I don’t care. Just cover your scent!”  He scowled, feeling the beast stir, waking and sinking its claws into his gut. 

"Why?”  He couldn’t believe she could be so stupid.

“‘Cause if you don’t, I’m gonna fuck you.  And I’d break you, little girl.”  Eyes still half-closed, he rubbed his hand across his groin and moaned softly.

“You… you desire me?  You wish to… make love?”  It came out a tortured whisper.  Her eyes huge in shock and dismay, *Lyliath could only stare, frozen like a bird before a snake.

“Desire?  No, I need to fuck.  I don’t make love.  I’m an animal, remember?  I rut!”  He snarled at her, his voice going lower and deeper than she’d ever heard him.  And he growled almost continuously, now.  A low, hungry sound, full of need.  Primal and very scary.  

She backed away but could not take her eyes off him.  Every time she started to think of him as human, he’d do something like this.  Jolt her back into awareness of just how big and dangerous, animalistic he really was.  She wondered if he was doing it on purpose… taunting her.

Heavy-lidded, Riddick watched her as she continued to stare, fascinated and repulsed by his deliberately sexual behaviour.  She gulped as a slight, carnal smirk made the corners of those full, sensual lips twitch up.  

Now he slid one hand into the front of the ragged pants he still wore.  His mouth opened slightly, allowing her to hear how his breathing had roughened and grown heavier.  Glancing down, she could see the growing bulge as he massaged himself harder and faster. 

“What are you…why are you doing that?”  She squeaked.  Still backing slowly, she suddenly sat when her legs struck the large boulder behind her.  The big beast’s glowing silver eyes snapped fully open and he sneered at her. 

“You never seen a man jack himself before?”  When she shook her head no, a puzzled little frown settling over those deep violet eyes, he barked a short laugh.

“Well then, you’re in for a show.  Enjoy.”  He let his head tilt back, resting it against the tree, his eyes glazing and falling half-closed.  But not before he’d opened the front of his pants, fully exposing himself. 

Wrapping one long-fingered hand around his erect cock, he cupped the other under his balls, gently squeezing and rolling them.  At the same time, he slid his fist up and down over the length of his shaft, occasionally rubbing his thumb over the large, dark cap.   The beast inside stretched, rolling and causing his abdominal muscles to clench and his thighs to quiver.  His sac tingled, tightening as he closed on release.

Hearing a soft gasp, he glanced at the woman.  Riddick chuckled, amused by the shocked expression on *Lyliath’s face.  He hadn’t thought her eyes could get any wider, but they had, and now her lips parted too.  She had both hands up to her face, covering her mouth.  Until she looked up at his face, then she dropped them to her chest, covering her breasts as if to hide them from his hot, blue-silver stare.  

It was all he needed to send him over the edge and he groaned, pumping faster until he abruptly folded forward; a long, low moan torn from him.  Silvery jets of semen spurted over his hand and he shuddered in ecstasy, breath ragged.

*Lyliath finally managed to tear her gaze away as Riddick slumped to his knees.  Mind numb, she blindly ran down the hill, not even sure if she was still following the path.  She just needed to put distance between them.  She felt ill by how captivated she’d been by that little performance of his.  And he had excited her; she could feel the dampness leaking from her femininity.


	4. Chapter 4

                                                                                      IV

Less than a half an hour after they’d begun, the pack discovered the tree nest.  Reining in the eager Golls, Can*ly watched one of the smaller, more nimble trackers scramble up the trunk.  He spent several minutes crouched in the cluster of branches.

“Well, Master; what has he found so interesting up there?”  Ryngal was almost as impatient as the lead trackers.

“We shall see in a moment, my prince.  Here he comes.”  The tracker leaped the last six feet down to land at the Master’s feet.  Crouching before him, the beast whined and wriggled with excitement.

“What have you found, tracker?”   The animal dropped lower, almost belly down on the ground before it answered.

“Woman scent.  Jagile, too.”  The prince inhaled sharply, raising his fist to his mouth and visibly paling.  

“But no body?”  Can*ly pressed.

“No body.”  The tracker agreed, then stunned them with, “No blood.”

“What?”  The master blurted.   

“Fur..y..an!”  The beast hissed, drawing out the name into a hate-filled invective.  

Howls and hisses from the Rykengoll answered him.  

“Yess, yess!  Thiss way, Masster!”   The biggest one pointed uphill, dancing from one foot to the other in agitation.  

Ryngal and Can*ly stared at each other in shocked surprise.  The Master watched an unreasoning hope bloom in his friend’s eyes.

“Do you think…?”  It changed to certainty and anger.  “He’s taken her!  He said I should give her to him!”  He strode to his mount and flung himself into the saddle.  “Send all but the most essential people home, Master.  We must make more speed.  If he harms her…!” 

Not waiting for any answer, Ryngal turned his horse to face the way the Goll had pointed and dug his spurs into its flanks.  As he passed their handlers, he snapped, “Release them!”

The Master shook his head in frustration.  Calling his second to him, he relayed the prince’s orders and mounted his own steed.  He sent the slower trackers back as well, and all the support personnel that could not ride.  Then he took off after Ryngal, hoping he caught up to him before anything bad happened.  This situation was deteriorating more by the minute, and the Master was very unsure of any agreeable outcome.

They rode for several hours, mostly in silence, the only words spoken when the handlers directed the trackers or they answered.  When Can*ly caught the Prince, he did something that would normally have earned him censure if not a lashing.  He reached out and jerked Ryngal’s mount to a stop.

“My prince, my  **friend** !  Please, Ryngal.  Stop and think for moment, man.  Three Goll, their handlers and you’re not even armed!  What would happen if you found him?”  Can*ly sighed.  “He would destroy all of you.  That creature is unstoppable unless majorly outnumbered.  We will need the full pack to bring him to bay.  Even then, I am not sure we can bring him down.  Not alive, anyway.” 

“He has *Lyliath, Can*ly.  I know he does.”  Ryngal almost sobbed it.

“And if he does, she is alive and safer than if she were out here alone.  Remember what he said, my prince.  He intended to keep her.  I don’t think he will harm her on purpose.  

“Originally, he did not even want to come on this hunt, just because she is female.  Only after he was told she would not be killed did he accept.”  Can*ly squeezed the prince’s upper arm.  “We have to hope he spoke the truth.”

“But he told us she’d been taken by a jagile!”  The prince moaned.

“What exactly did he say to you?”  The Master frowned, as he questioned his friend gently.

“I asked him about her.  He said she was gone.  A jagile; and he showed me a piece of the cloak she wore.”  Digging in a pocket, Ryngal pulled out the scrap of cloth. “He gave me this.” 

Can*ly examined it, turning it over in his hands.  Shaking his head, he snorted and smiled, not at all pleased.  Ryngal frowned in confusion at his friend’s reaction.

“What is it, Can*ly?”

“Ah, Ryngal!  You should have shown this to me right away.  Look here; see how the fibers are sliced clean and even?  This is a knife cut, not torn by claws.  And there’s no blood on it.  If it had been done by a cat… While I have never known him to lie, he certainly led you to believe she was dead.  Misdirection.”

“So.  He is even smarter than you thought.  Is that what you’re telling me?”  The prince scowled, his fear for his cousin turning to anger at his friend, and at himself for not listening to the man.  He had told him repeatedly that Riddick could not be trusted. 

“Why does he want her, do you think?  And how can we get her back?” 

Wondering how he could possibly explain to the prince without having him completely lose all sense of caution, the Master stroked his chin as he thought hard and fast.  Ryngal frowned again, recognizing the gesture from long acquaintance as not good news.

“Can*ly?  Just spit it out, man!  Stop trying to coddle me.”  

“As you wish, my prince.  You’re not going to like it.”  The master sighed, looking to his friend with sadness and pity in his eyes.  

“Lady Lyliath is of age is she not?”  Ryngal nodded, looking unsure of where the Master was headed with that question.  “And the blood moon season approaches.  I fear even though your tracker claims to be a ‘man’, he will be affected most severely by it.  Human or not, his being Furyan means the animal is always close to the surface.  He may injure her without meaning to, if they are still together.  She will not try to refuse him… and physically, he’s just too big for one of our women.”

All the colour draining from his features as the import of his master’s words sank in; Ryngal shuddered in fear for his favorite cousin, the woman he loved.

“May all the gods that ever were prevent it!  We must be faster, Can*ly.  He’s not just Furyan, he’s an alpha!  He’s has the mark on his chest… I saw it when he had me pinned. He’ll tear her apart!”  

Can*ly’s eyes widened and he nodded in agreement.  “You will not allow her to be executed if we manage to return with her, will you my prince?”

“No, I will not.  I begin to think some of what she believes may be correct, my friend.  It is time for change.  A good start would be marrying her, as I should have done a long time ago.”  Ryngal stated firmly, looking at his friend defiantly.  He knew Can*ly was more conservative than he; not as open to new thoughts, but right now, he didn’t care.

Though he frowned, the Master did not express any outright disapproval.  The prince was unsure of the reason, but it didn’t matter to him as long as it meant they could travel at greater speed.  He pushed his horse to follow the pack up hill.

Shortly thereafter, the Golls found where Riddick and *Lyliath had rested beneath the fir.  Their handlers managed to hold them back long enough for Can*ly to determine that they had made two beds of needles, before the beasts went crazy.  Howling in rage and tearing at the ground where the Furyan had lain, they plainly wanted nothing more than to rend him limb from limb.  Just as he had done to their packmates.

The prince refused to stop and rest, even though the Master thought the pack needed it.  He allowed them only enough time to drink and wolf down a quick snack, eating and drinking his own food while still in the saddle.  The afternoon was quickly wearing toward sundown when they would have to stop.

Catching up to the lead handler an hour later, both Can*ly and the prince dismounted to evaluate the track.  It being an animal trail made it harder to separate out the scents they were following.  But the man had noticed something or he would not have called them over.

“See here, Master?  She is very tired.  Her footsteps are uneven and she pauses often to rest.  And here…” He moved several feet upslope.  “He waits for her.  Here he turned and looked back.  Then waited here for several moments.”

“She follows him?  But where can they be going?”  Ryngal looked up and north toward the peak of the mountain.  “There’s nothing up there but rock and anhangapteris.”

The handler dropped his head to stare at his toes, obviously not wanting to say anything more.

Can*ly did not miss his reluctance.  “Speak up, man.  What do you think?”

Not happy about being caught out, the handler turned a distraught gaze from the master to the prince and back.  Dropping to one knee and bowing his head, he murmured, “There is rumour of a rebel camp in the mountains, my Prince, Master.  Perhaps the Lady knew of this possibility and told the tracker?”

Looking to each other, both nodded.  Can*ly sighed, “If anyone could find them, it would be the Furyan.”   Ryngal just tightened his lips and remounted. 

“Let us hurry, then.  We can still make another hour or two before sunset.”

They trudged on; going slower now as the pack tired and breathing became more difficult in the thinning air.  Can*ly worried that the horses would not be able to continue much further. The trail was becoming too steep for them and being lowland creatures, they were suffering the most from the lack of oxygen.  

Just as he had decided they would have to stop and make camp, the pack went crazy.  They all ran in circles, some were actually rolling themselves on the ground, all of them baying in excitement.  

Ryngal looked to him questioningly.  “A blood trail?  Nothing else would make them behave like this, right?”   

“No, my prince.  Nothing except an actual body.”  Glancing at Ryngal as he pushed past, the Master added, “and I don’t see one.”  The handlers had the pack back under control by the time he had climbed the last few feet.  Rounding the outcropping of rock where Riddick had surprised *Lyliath, he faced what had driven them over the edge.

A section of disturbed dirt and rock, trail almost obscured and blood; a lot of blood.  He leaned over a particularly heavy patch, rubbing his fingers across it and lifting them to his nose.  Nodding, the Master turned back to Ryngal who watched him, expectant and fearful.

“Not to worry, my prince.  Rock hopper.  He killed it; his prints are all over this spot.  And *Lyliath’s as well.  After the kill.  See here where she tracked through the blood?  It was already beginning to dry.  At least they will have eaten well.”  He smiled cautiously.  

The same handler they had spoken with earlier called to them.  “Master? You should come see this.”  Can*ly turned and looked up to the man, where he leaned around a huge boulder.  

“What is it, *Lyall?”    

“I’m not certain, Master.  I think he carried her from here.”

The prince and the Master both scrambled the few feet to where the handler stood.  He pointed to the ground before him.  “Does this not seem as though he knelt here?  And see, his prints are deeper when he moved on.  As if he held a weight well balanced.  I think she may have climbed on his back.  Her prints are behind his and spread wide, as though she needed to stretch around his hips to reach his shoulders.”

“Yes, yes.  I agree, *Lyall.  Nor do I see any further of her boot marks from this spot on.  He has continued up carrying her, indeed.”  He sighed and glanced at Ryngal’s frown.  “This is good news, my prince.  He’s taking care of her.  He will not harm her intentionally.  You should be pleased.”  He continued when the prince’s frown only deepened. 

“How far ahead are they?”  Ryngal wanted to know.

“Less than a day, my prince.  If we rest the trackers… and ourselves,” here Can*ly gave a significant look to him, his brows raised, “we may catch up tomorrow, late in the day.”  

Huffing in frustration, Ryngal nodded reluctant acceptance.  “Very well.  Make camp then.  But I wish to be moving by first light tomorrow.  We have less than a week until the moon is full.”


	5. Chapter 5

                                                                                       V

The big man lifted his head from where he knelt, panting as he recovered.  He pressed his lips tightly together as he followed the woman’s uncontrolled flight down the mountainside.  She was leaving a trail a blind man could follow.  No way could he conceal that.  He just hoped she didn’t fall and break something before she ran out of steam.    

Taking a deep breath, he levered himself upright, his legs still a little shaky.  It had been a long time for him and he’d come quick and hard.  Another deep breath and he started moving; couldn’t let her get too far ahead.  

A shadow passed over *Lyliath and he raised his eyes to the sky, squinting at the painful brightness.  The huge winged creature floating toward him screamed; a high clear keening sound. Then it banked a turn, heading back toward her.  Riddick began to run; he recognized the hunting pattern immediately.

Leaping obstacles, he stretched himself, charging straight down the hill, pulling his shivs as he closed on *Lyliath.  The flying beast was nearing her just as swiftly and he knew it would be questionable if he got there in time. 

He could see she had heard it; her arms were raised behind her head and she began to duck and weave as she fled.  Then she screamed; a wail of pure terror… and it was  **his** name that she called.  “Riiidiiick!” 

The bat-like beast passed over *Lyliath, much closer this time and screamed again, trying to get her to freeze in panic.  She squealed, ducking, but kept moving.  She was headed for the next patch of trees but she wasn’t going to make it.  He shouted in anger, hoping to distract the animal.  It did turn its head back to look for him but without changing course.

The anhangapteris flapped once, stalling its forward momentum and turned.  Extending raptor-like hind legs down, claws stretched wide open; it tipped its head down to focus on the little leaping, darting creature below it.  Prepared to make its killing dive, it paid little attention to the much bigger animal uphill from its prey.

Seeing the tiny female zigzag around an outcropping, the big man altered his headlong rush to aim directly for it.  He roared a command, hoping she would obey.

“*Lyliath, down!  Down, now!”  Surprised to hear him so close, she dropped immediately to her knees, skidding in the loose rock and dirt and ending up on her face.  A sudden shadow made her roll to the side and look up.

Screaming in frustration, the flying beast’s voice cut off in mid-shriek.  *Lyliath actually lost her breath for a moment, staring in stunned amazement as the Furyan sailed over her head, crashing directly into the animal hovering over her.  He slammed into it shiv first, plunging each of the blades into the creature’s breast. 

Tangled together, they plummeted from the sky to tumble wildly down the slope, finally fetching up in some wiry brush.  She stood, brushing herself off, watching the conjoined pair.  Neither moved. 

_ Ancestors!  Has he killed himself?  For me?  _   She fretted, hesitantly making her way closer, but carefully.   One wing obviously broken lay across the big man’s face.  As she stared, she saw his chest rise.  Taking another step, she transferred her attention to the creature half-crushed under him.  It never moved, the blood oozing from its wounds only flowing sluggishly, not pumping out from the force of a beating heart. 

She blew out a relieved breath and inched closer to the Furyan.  She wanted to check him for injuries but feared his reaction if she startled him back to consciousness.  *Lyliath needn’t have worried; even as she approached, he moved his free arm and groaned.

“Riddick?”  She knelt beside him.  “It’s *Lyliath.  Do you hear me?”  Slowly, she touched his forearm, sliding her fingers down to grip his hand.  

“Mmm.”  He groaned.  “Help me get this thing offa me.”  

“Yes, of course.  Don’t try to move.  Let me do it.”  She leaned closer, grasping the wing and gently pulling on it, lifting it free.  

As he attempted to roll onto his back, the big man hissed in pain.  He looked down at himself, muttering “Shit!”, at what he discovered.  She gasped in shock also.  One of the anhangapteris’ claws had impaled him, hooked through the heavy pectoral muscle on the right side of his chest.  

“Oh, no!”  She cried. “They lock in sleep or death.  How are we going to free you?” 

“Fuck!  Help me sit up.  Hold on to this thing, try to lift it some.”  He snarled, not angry she hoped, but just from the pain.  His free hand placed hers around the creature’s leg. She nodded, swallowing.  “With me, now.  Don’t pull it away, just lift as I move,” he instructed. 

Struggling to move only as much as Riddick, she tried to lift the heavy beast off him as he rolled to his knees.  It took all her strength as the animal’s body was half the length of hers.  Awkward because the other wing was still trapped under him and she had to reach across him, *Lyliath staggered.  She nearly went down, only remaining upright because he grabbed her around the waist, hissing as the leg jerked in her grip. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry!”  She stood partway, bent over uncomfortably, still holding the beast’s leg.  He scowled at her and she wailed, “I’m trying, Riddick!  But it’s heavy!”

He growled.  “Told you not to apologize.  Find my shiv.  Should be close.”  He released her and took over holding the claw.

“Your what?”  She looked around, searching for she knew not what.

“Blade.  Knife.  Looks like this one.”  He nodded at the one still buried in the beast’s breast.    

“Oh.  Why not use that one?”

“‘Cause it’s caught in the bone and I don’t think you can pull it out without tearing me up more.”

“Ah, right.  Oh!  Here it is!”  She pounced happily.

“Careful, Beautiful.  That’s sharp.”  He smiled.  “Now, you think you can cut this foot off?”  She gulped, her eyes going wide. 

“You want me to… to cut off the foot?  While it’s still attached… to you?”

“Be a lot easier to free myself if I don’t have the whole thing’s weight pulling on my chest.  Fucking hurts.  C’mon.  Give it a shot.  You can do it.”  He actually grinned up at her, daring her to try.

Taking a deep breath, she licked her lips and nodded.  “Okay, where do I cut?”

“Right at the joint.  Just cut through the skin.  You’ll see things that look like rope or string.  Those’re tendons.  Gotta cut ‘em apart.  Then you stick the point between th’ ends of the bone and cut the ligaments.  Easy.”  He stared into her eyes, patiently waiting for her to gather her courage.

“If you say so.  You know what you’re doing.”  She looked back with a tentative little smile.  “I certainly don’t.”

“Just go slow.  Don’t try to force it.”  He nodded as she began. “That’s right.  Good girl.”  He watched her carefully slicing through the meat and tendons around the joint, occasionally correcting.  Smiling to himself as her expression changed from distaste to concentration and finally pride when the bones separated.  

Throwing the carcass to the side, freeing his other arm, he sighed in relief and rolled to his knees, then stood, slightly unsteady.  He put a hand to the back of his head and brought it away sticky and bloodied. 

Ignoring her gasp, he frowned down at the creature at his feet.

“What th’ fuck is that thing?”  He held out his hand for the blade she still gripped tightly.  She gave it back, shrugging.

“They’re called anhangapteris… ‘demon wing’.  I guess you know why.”  He scowled, busy slicing through the tendons holding the claw clenched.  Thrusting the shiv back into the waistband of his pants, Riddick carefully slid two fingers of each hand between the individual talons and pulled gently, drawing them apart.

*Lyliath watched his nostrils flare as he freed himself, but that was the only concession he made to the pain it caused him.  He sighed, pressing against the wound, making the blood flow, the tiny muscles around his eyes tightening slightly.  He turned to her, an amused look on his normally stoic features.

“Gonna carry you again for a while.  That’s one hella directional you left back there.”  He gestured at the trail she’d made, crashing down the hill.  

“And this is a mess.  No way t’ hide this.  It’ll be harder for them t’ track just me.   And not finding your prints might just confuse ‘em enough they’ll stop t’ look for ya.”  He stepped onto a flat rock and knelt.  “Climb on.  Wasted enough time here.”

“You think the prince still follows us?”  She worried.

"I know he is.  He wants you bad.  And I left with a threat hanging over his Master’s head.   **He** wants me dead.  Probably a few of the pack, too.”  He grinned evilly and snickered, remembering something she thought it most likely wise not to ask about.  

“Are you sure about this?  That was quite a fall.  You’re not hurt?”  

“Had worse.  Get on.”  He jerked his head at her and frowned.  Not wishing to argue further, she complied as she had before.  This time, he grunted as he stood, standing still for a moment, balancing and getting her placed comfortably.  Taking a deep breath, he faced down the slope and moved off.

Carefully staying to one side of the path, Riddick stepped from rock to rock as much as possible.  *Lyliath was confused and dismayed when he found a pile of scat and promptly stepped directly into it, twisting each foot to spread it thoroughly.  

Even as she drew breath to question, he twisted back and rumbled, “Cover my scent.”  She nodded, her nose wrinkling at the stench but she made no comment.  Just leaned closer to the side of his neck and readjusted her grip.   _ Rather smell him that that any day  _ , she thought.  Taking a deeper breath, she wondered,  _ He smells good.  Why haven’t I noticed before?  _

Their arrival at the edge of a high cliff precluded her thinking about it any further.  Though he’d noticed, the Furyan made no mention of it either.  He set her back on her feet and held her so she would not step off the ledge of rock.  Growling softly, he peered over, looking for a way down.

“Riddick?  You’re not thinking of…?”  As *Lyliath glanced from the depths back at his face, she quavered, “Oh, no!  Please; there must be another way!”  All she could see was one or both of them slipping and bouncing off the projections of bedrock before landing in the rapids below.

He glared at her, gesturing.  “You see one?” 

“Gods!  I barely made it over the first one!  And that was nothing like this.  We can’t possibly…”

“Gonna have t’ try.”  He spoke right over her complaint.  “Can’t stay here.”  

“I don’t think I can do this.  I don’t like heights.”  She closed her eyes, shaking her head and breathing in little panting breaths.

Riddick just laughed.  “That’s pretty funny coming from someone who jumped out a third story window.  You’ll be fine.  Wasn’t planning on lettin’ ya climb down by yourself, anyway.”   When her eyes widened, he grinned and nodded in affirmation.

“Oh, no!  You’re not thinking of carrying me while you climb?”

“Safer.  Gimme that tie from your hair.”  He knelt before her for the third time.

“What for?”  She questioned, unbinding her plait and handing it over as she stepped around behind him.    Riddick removed the fur mocs he wore and unwrapped his previously injured foot. He tucked them into a pocket on one thigh and cut the long strip in two, winding each half around a palm.   

As *Lyliath leaned over his broad back and wrapped her arms around his throat, he stood and tucked her legs close around his waist.  Without answering her question in words, he nonetheless made it very clear what he wanted the material for.  Riddick held her delicate ankles crossed in one large hand and bound them together.  

Not giving her time to question or argue his actions, he turned his back to the cliff and stepped off; grasping the edge of the projection they’d been standing on.  *Lyliath squeaked and clutched him tightly.  He gagged as she cut off his air, then growled when she loosened up a little.

“Do that again and I will drop ya!”  He snarled. “Relax.  Just keep close and let me do the work.  Think ya can manage that?”

“Yes.  I’m s…” *Lyliath stopped speaking as he growled again.  She could see enough of his face to know he was pissed.  She was completely unsure if he’d meant what he’d just threatened, or if he’d only said it to scare her into obeying him.

Climbing carefully but steadily, Riddick spent most of the afternoon in getting about two thirds of the way down the 600 ft precipice.  He stopped when they reached a wider level area, allowing *Lyliath to climb down and rest.  She sat with her back to the rock face, massaging circulation back into her feet and ankles.  He moved off to one side, examining the cliff for something.  She couldn’t figure out what as he was looking up, not down toward where they needed to go. 

She gasped when he suddenly leaped off the ledge sideways and began to climb.

“Riddick!  Where are you going?”  She leaped to her feet and edged as close as she dared to where he’d taken off.    

“Just wait.”  He looked down at her.  “And be quiet. Your voice will echo here.”  She swallowed and nodded, not really having much choice.

"Okay.”  She whispered as he hauled himself over another ledge and disappeared from view.  The little raven-haired beauty took a deep breath and slid back to the widest part of the ledge where she slipped down to a sitting position.   Drawing her knees to her chest, she rested one cheek on them and closed her eyes, her back pressing up against the cliff. 

She hadn’t even realized she’d dozed off until someone’s fingers stroked down her cheek.  Her eyes flew open just in time to see him finish taking a deep breath.  He held her braid up to his face, grinning at her shock and rubbed it on his cheek and across his lips.  His eyes half closed, taking on that heavy-lidded hot stare he’d treated her to earlier in the day.

Dropping her hair, he raised one brow and murmured, “Hungry, Sweetness?”

Feeling a very unwelcome and surprising quiver in her gut, heat flushed from her groin up to her face.  *Lyliath blushed fiercely and dropped her eyes to her feet.

Riddick just chuckled and sat beside her, completely relaxed.  He crossed his ankles and pulled one of the slippers cautiously out of his pocket.  Holding it cupped in one hand, he carefully unwrapped it and offered it to her.  “Dinner, Beautiful?”

She raised her eyes to see a dozen eggs nestled in the fur.  Making a face she took one.  Holding it tentatively, she glanced at him.  “Now what?”

He snorted in amusement.  “Now we eat.”  He took one himself, laying the others carefully between them and poked a hole in the end with the tip of his shiv.  He handed the blade to her and tipped his head back.  Placing the hole to his lips he noisily sucked the contents out. 

Chucking the empty shell over the cliff, he reached for a second.  Glancing up at her, he frowned when she just stared back, grimacing in distaste.  At his raised brow, she whispered unhappily,  “Raw?  You expect me to eat this raw?”  She still held the egg she’d taken. 

“You hungry or not?  You don’t want it, hand it over.”  He frowned in annoyance.

“I... I don’t think I can, Riddick.”  He just shrugged, taking the egg and repeating his performance.  She watched him down eight of them, one after the other.  He lifted the ninth, his eyes narrowed in the light of the setting sun.

“You sure you don’t want any?”  He cocked an eyebrow when her stomach grumbled and grinned.  “Try it.  They’re pretty good.”

Pouting, she sighed in defeat.  She was hungry and he seemed to be really enjoying them.   _ How bad could it be?  _ she contemplated the ovoid he still held out and sighing, took it.  

“Just breathe out as you swallow.  You’ll hardly taste it.”  He chuckled.  Gagging on the first one, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth as her stomach rebelled.  Then she realized she really was starving and managed to suck down the remaining three. 

“Feel better, Beautiful?”  The big man was obviously amused.  “Time to go.  I don’t want to spend the night on this cliff.”  He rose to his knees and peered over his shoulder. 

“But it will be dark before you can reach the bottom.  How will you…? Oh.”  She stared at his eyes.  Since he face was shadowed, she could see how they shone now, flashing a brighter silver.  “You can see in the dark.  Can’t you?” 

He frowned, hearing the ‘just like an animal’, even though she had not said it aloud.  *Lyliath bit her lip and stepped close, climbing on as she had before.  Riddick stood, binding her ankles again and methodically made his way down the escarpment.  

Night had fallen and the moons were on the rise by the time they reached flatter ground.  *Lyliath turned to the big man towering over her as soon as her feet hit the ground. He was not paying attention to her, his head tilted back, face to the sky.  

She lifted her own to see what he gazed at so raptly.   The smaller, green-white moon was full; its light shining into his eyes and turning them to glowing mercury orbs.  But what frightened her, shook her to her core was watching it being slowly eclipsed by a second, much larger, closer sphere.  

The blood moon.  In only a few days it would be full.  “Oh, no!”  She gasped.  With all that had occurred over the past few days, she’d completely forgotten.  “Riddick!  We must find the rebel camp.  Now!” 

He turned to look down at her, making her gasp again.  One side of his face was shadowed, nearly invisible save for that shining eye; the other now bathed in crimson.  If she had not seen him in sunlight, she would have truly believed he was the demon others claimed him to be.  The cheek bone and heavy brow ridge stood out clearly, his strong jaw and full lips reddened by the moon’s hellish glow.  

Worst of all was the instant desire to leap into his arms and kiss those lips, feel him crush her to his muscled chest.  And he knew it; she saw his nostrils flare as he scented her hunger.  He smiled, his lids drooping with lust.  And he growled; the same low, hungry sound as earlier in the day.  

Backing away, she shook her head.  “No, Riddick, please.  Don’t.”

He cocked his head to one side, “Why?  You want me to.”  He licked his lips and grinned, exposing his canines.  She was reminded of nothing so much as the jagile that had nearly attacked her before he’d frightened it away.  

“No, I… it’s the moon.  I can’t help it.  It’s affecting you, too.  The blood fever.  Makes you crazy; wanton.”  She whispered, “and it will only get worse.  Until it passes full.  Until the eclipse is over.  We need to be among others now.  The effect is diluted when not alone… with just one other.”   

Shuddering, *Lyliath closed her eyes.  “And you are so strong; so  **male** !  I can’t…”  She wailed, covering her face.  “Get away from me!  Just get away!”  

His quiet chuckle sounding right in her ear, he murmured, “I can’t just leave you out here by yourself.  You might get eaten… and I’d rather do that myself.”  Inhaling deeply, he actually purred, “So sweet.”

“Stars, Riddick!  Did you not hear me?”  *Lyliath turned back to him so distraught with fear and frustrated need that she struck him.  Eyes snapping wide open in shock from the sting of a slapped cheek, he snarled at her, instantly enraged.  

He’d caught her wrist, but not until after her hand had connected with the side of his face.  His eyes flashed blue fire and he tightened his fist, crushing her wrist in his grip. Only when she screamed in pain did his mind come fully back from the fog of desire he was sinking into.  

“Fuck!”  He immediately let go.  She sobbed, cradling her arm to her chest and staring at him with a mixture of hurt and dread.  Scowling in anger at himself that he’d harmed her, Riddick crouched down.  Voice totally changed, back to his normal unemotional rasp, he reached out slowly.  “Let me see.”

*Lyliath took a deep breath, recognizing the change in attitude, but still unsure.  Deciding to trust, she slowly held out her arm, wincing as the support of her other hand was removed.  The big man gently brought his open palm up under it, glancing up and asking her to wiggle her fingers.  She did, but hissed in pain. 

“Damn, it’s broke.”  He unwrapped one of the strips from his own hand and retied it around her wrist.  Then he took the longer piece he’d used on her ankles and fashioned a sling for her.  “That’ll have to do for now.  Whyn’t you tell me about this sooner?” 

“I’ve had a few other things on my mind these last days.  And it’s the first time I’ve been able to see the sky after dark.  I just forgot about it.”  She shrugged, then winced. 

“So, tell me now.  While we walk.”  He turned away from her, heading down slope.  

“It does not occur often.  Only once or twice in a lifetime, when the red moon eclipses the small one.  I don’t understand it fully, myself.  Something about tidal pull and combined gravity affecting the mind.  Throws the body’s hormonal balance off.  And it only affects adults; those that are not paired yet.”  She glanced at him, to see him frowning down at her.  “Like us.”  She whispered, dropping her eyes from that hot, liquid silver stare. 

“Why should it affect me?  I’m not one of you people.”

Smiling unhappily, she replied; “It affects all human types; some more than others.  My people have somewhat adjusted as time has passed.  You, however, don’t have that defense.  And because of your… uh…makeup, it may even be worse for you.”

“Ya mean ‘cause I’m Furyan; part animal anyway?”  He snarled.

“Truthfully, yes.  The last one I heard of had to be destroyed.  But it was before I was born so I’m not sure how exaggerated the story may have been.”  When he looked at her inquiringly, she shrugged.  “My father was Huntmaster to Prince Ryngal’s father.  He used to tell me many stories when I was a child.”

“Mmmm.”  He rumbled thoughtfully.  Noticing her stumble again, he frowned.  “Need to find some place to rest.  River’s getting close.  We’ll make your friends’ camp in the morning.”

“How do you know…?  You smelled them?  But, the water?”  

“I can smell it, too.  Haven’t you noticed the air’s damper?”  He stopped, placing a hand on her shoulder.  “Stand quiet.  Close your eyes and listen.  Can you hear it?”

Doing as he asked, *Lyliath concentrated on listening.  “What am I listening for?"   She finally murmured.

“The rapids.  Can’t you hear the rush of the water over the rocks?  Kind of a background hiss.  Put your hand up to your nose and cup it just underneath.  Now breathe out.  Hear that sound?  That’s what it sounds like.”

Trying it, and then listening again, she murmured, “I hear what sounds to me like wind in dry, autumn leaves.  But steadier.  Is that it?”

Grinning in approval, he nodded.  “There’s some firs just ahead.  We’ll see if there’s a good spot to sleep there.  C’mon.”

They found a twisted fir that sprang from a cleft in a huge boulder not far from the stream.  Leaving *Lyliath beneath its drooping boughs, Riddick went to cut more branches. When he returned, arms full, he found she had pushed together the detritus under the tree to make a nest.  One nest. 

He stared at her, one brow raised and she just shrugged.   “I got cold last night, so I thought…” 

“Think you’ll be safe?  That I won’t… eat you, little girl?”  He snickered.  “I am the big, bad wolf, remember?”  

Though she blushed as the deep rumble of his voice rolled over her, she did not look away this time.

“You’re not an animal, Riddick.  Not just an animal.  You’re a man.  And you’ve more control of yourself than most I know.”  He just snorted and placed the branches to act as windbreak and deepen their concealment.  Finished, he crawled in beside her and removed his skin ‘vest’.  He unlaced it and spread it over the pile of fir needles.  

“C’mon.  Get some sleep.”   He stretched out on half the skin, lying on his side and held his upper arm out.  *Lyliath removed her cloak, snuggled her back into him and flung the cloak over them both, resting her cheek on his heavy bicep. 

It was several hours later, when a noise woke her.  The big man had rolled onto his back and now lay twitching and moaning in his sleep.  The muscles of his arms and hands jumped, he growled and muttered under his breath.  Thing only thing she made out clearly was when he snarled, “Fucking mercs!”  

_ He was on the run…again.  Piece of shit cutter was the only thing he could get his hands on.  Not fast enough, they were gaining on him.  And their pilot was damn good.  As good as him.  No matter how he twisted and rolled, ducked in and out of systems, comet tails and how many times he’d dropped in and out of warp, the bastard stayed right on his tail.  Getting closer every time…almost in firing range now.  He had to do something, something unexpected.  _

_ Seeing the ion cloud off to his far side; away from galactic center, he decided a desperation move was his only option.  So he dove straight in, knowing they wouldn’t be able to see a thing.  Of course, neither could he and he hoped there wasn’t anything solid hidden in there.  Like a planet.  _

_ Just as he thought he’d gotten away, the ship lurched and shuddered.  Lights flickered and died and he began to tumble; the grav control giving up on him in a shower of sparks from the overhead panel.  Must have fired blind and got a lucky hit, he thought. _

_ Then his attention was riveted to the forward screens as all the proximity alarms began shrieking at once.   _

_ “Fuck me.  Fuck me dry and hard!”  He cursed as the twin mooned ball of rock caught  _ _ him in its gravity well and began to drag him down.  He lunged out of the pilot’s chair and turned, ripping a panel off the control console.   _

_ Down on his knees, head underneath, he patched what he could in the few minutes he could spare.  Back to the pilot’s station, his fingers flew across the boards as he attempted to stabilize his craft and at least make a controlled crash.  _

“Uhnnh.”  Riddick moaned, tossing his head,  *Lyliath shook him again, harder.

“Wake up!  Riddick, wake up!”  Growling, not fully awake, he suddenly rolled right over her, pinning her, a shiv pressed to her throat.  “Riddick, no!”  She cried.  Lying very still, she spoke quietly and a lot more calmly than she felt.  “It’s only me.  *Lyliath.  You were dreaming; having a nightmare.  Riddick?” 

Awareness returning, he focused on her, staring into her widened eyes.  Instead of releasing her as she expected, he continued to just look at her for about ten seconds, blinking once slowly.  Then he leaned in and kissed her full on the mouth, his lips slightly parted. 

She shuddered, heat flashing through her, followed by an electric tingle down her spine, through her sex and making her toes curl.  She squirmed her arms free and flung them around his neck, digging her nails into the heavy muscle on each side of his neck. 

Stabbed her tongue between his lips, sucking the lower one into her mouth.  She moaned with need; he tasted like nothing she’d ever experienced.  Warm, spicy, rich.  She felt herself falling into a pool of desire; deep, liquid wanting that would ignore any distraction until her hunger was satisfied.  

The only thing that saved her was the man’s acute hearing and the leftover adrenaline from his dream.  It kept him alert enough to notice the soft footsteps and quiet whispers of approaching people.  He pulled back, covering her needy cry with his large hand over her mouth.

“Shh.”  His mouth touching her ear, he breathed, “Somebody out there.”


	6. Chapter 6

                                                                             VI

Frustrated, fearful and anxious, Ryngal was up before the sun.  He unceremoniously booted his Master out of his warm blankets when the man only grunted and rolled over at his first attempt to wake him.  After snarling, “Get them moving, Can*ly,” he climbed the same rock Riddick had used to surprise *Lyliath and stood staring up the path. 

Rousing the handlers to get the pack up and fed, the Master glanced back at his prince and friend.  Seeing him there, silhouetted against the mountain in the early morning light, Can*ly sighed. He was a man possessed.  The Master wondered and worried which of the two fugitives he was most anxious to recover. 

Ryngal was most unhappy to learn they had to continue from this point without the horses.  They had been a great advantage, enabling the hunt to close the distance between themselves and their quarry quite rapidly.  Now they would be hard put to increase their pace beyond his.  Especially since he realized the woman, tiring, would only slow him.  He appeared to make the same speed, whether carrying her or not.

The hunt made the pass by mid-morning, stopping briefly there for a drink.  Ryngal was informed that the few prints they’d found all belonged to Riddick.  He stared down the steep incline he had just struggled up, back along the twisted, rock-strewn trail and was amazed again by the Furyan’s strength and endurance.  

By noon, they had found where he had slipped, the Rykengoll leaping in paroxysms of insane glee at the scent of his blood.  They raced down the slope, snapping at each other, fighting to see which would get to him first.  The prince and Can*ly followed, hurrying when they heard the beasts’ howls change to the squeals and chittering of bloodlust being sated.  

It took the handlers much longer to settle the beasts than either would have liked.  Finally they were able to squeeze through the narrow opening and enter the cave.  Can*ly shook his head at the mess the Golls had made.  What was left of the carcass had been torn apart, chewed on and pieces scattered all over.  The ashes from the fire were also strewn about, making finding spoor nearly impossible.  

“Well, my prince, I’m not going to be able to tell much from this.”  He waved his arm in an arc in front of himself.  “It is apparent the beast killed and brought the rock hopper here.  Most of one haunch is missing, not from the Golls, either.”   

At Ryngal’s impatient sigh, he looked up at his friend from where he crouched.  “She’s with him still.  See here?  This impression is from where she slept.  And there, he lay there.” 

Can*ly frowned, staring at the ground where the animal had stretched out before its fire.  He swallowed, not about to impart the knowledge that *Lyliath had moved during the night and curled up next to that big monster.       

“What else, Can*ly?  I can see there’s more.”  The Master sighed unhappily.  The prince could read him too well.

“Uh, not much really.  He apparently skinned the carcass.  Probably made himself some sort of rough cover with it.  It was pretty cold the last couple of nights and it snowed yesterday.   He’s resourceful; I’ll give him that.”

Ryngal frowned; he was pretty sure that his friend was keeping something back, but then, maybe he really didn’t want to know.  They returned to the pack, who were eager to continue and followed them down, winding back and forth on the rocky, tortuous game trail.  

Later that afternoon they came upon the small copse of trees where *Lyliath had knelt beside the rill and drunk.  Now keeping the Rykengoll in close check, Can*ly walked carefully along her track. 

As he passed the tree Riddick had rested in and leaned against, he slowed.  His head turning from side to side, he noted where she had walked down to the stream and back up.  Kneeling he could see she had stopped here and from the deeper impressions left by her heels, probably looked up.  

He did the same, seeing the heavy branch above and the slight scrape marks where the beast had climbed.  He stood, moving closer to the trunk and touched a spot even with his head.  It would have been level with the animal’s shoulder he thought.  The bark was scraped and flattened from the weight of something pressing against it.

*Lyall spoke quietly at that moment.  “Master? Over here.”  Looking up, Can*ly frowned at the man’s expression.  “The Lady sat here.”  He pointed at the flat rock before him.  “She backed into it; see the scuff marks here?  Something frightened her, I think.” 

The man glanced around and seeing that the prince was not close, he motioned the Master closer.  Dropping his voice to a whisper, he murmured, “Do you smell that?”  When Can*ly frowned, he stooped and scooped up a handful of leaves and moss.  Holding it out, the Master could see it was glued together by something whitish and sticky; mostly dried.  “It’s semen, Master.  What is happening here?” 

Can*ly stared at his assistant, horror making his eyes dark.  “Speak of this to no one *Lyall; do you hear?  No one!  Especially the prince.  I worry the blood fever consumes him, just as we feared it would.”  The man swallowed hard.

“What of the Lady, Master?  Has he…?” 

The prince called, cutting short any more speculation.  “Can*ly?  Come here.  What is that?”  He faced down the trail, frowning, with a hand shading his eyes.  As the master stepped up beside him, he pointed down the slope. 

The Master sucked in a sharp breath, following *Lyliath’s path of destruction as she fled from the Furyan.  Following and nearly intersecting was a second straight course of turned up earth and broken brush.  Both ended at a projection of rock, one just below and the other arrowed to the uphill side.  

He could not believe what Ryngal pointed at.  Further below, a large area of broken, flattened bushes and scrub finishing up at the body of a dead demon wing.  “By all the gods that ever lived! It’s not possible!  Can nothing touch him?”  He headed forward for a closer look, admonishing *Lyall to keep the trackers back for a moment.    

Ryngal followed, right on his heels, the trackers behind him.  Can*ly paced the Furyan’s path, noting how the beast had leaped obstacles, always landing square where the ground was the smoothest, even in what was obviously a headlong rush down the steep hillside.   _ He’s not chasing her, not directly,  _ he thought.   _ That flying monster was after her, and he saved her.  But how could he have brought one of those winged nightmares down?  _

They made it to the rock side by side.  “What does this mean, Can*ly.  Tell me what you see!”  Ryngal was nearly beside himself. 

“Well, something frightened her out of the wood, probably the tracker himself.  As you can see, she fled here and he chased her.”  The prince’s gasp made the Master glance up at him.  “Not to harm her, my friend.  That thing had spotted her.  Probably thought she’d make a good meal.  He is amazing, the way he can gauge distances and speeds while on the move himself.”  Can*ly shook his head, still astounded by the big beast’s talents. 

The prince scowled, his lips thinning at the Master’s remark.  Can*ly grasped his prince by the arm.  “He no doubt saved her life, Ryngal.  If that thing had struck her…  It would not have been good.  Come, let us go examine the corpse.”  He turned and made his way to the remains, slipping and scrambling, just as *Lyliath had.  

Explaining what they were seeing as they went, Can*ly showed the prince where Riddick and the anhangapteris had first struck the ground, how they had rolled, and when they reached the carcass, he turned it over with his boot.  

Now face up, it was plain to see the shiv still embedded in the creature’s body.  The second wound was also visible, as was the fact that the demon wing was missing a claw.  Crouching and forcefully yanking the shiv from its breast, the Master examined the blade. 

“Unbelievable.  This is bone.”

“He told me he made it himself.”  The prince grunted.  “But there were two.  So he still has one?” 

“Probably, I don’t see anything here…wait!  What’s this?” The Master stood and walked several steps, then bent and picked the other claw out of a bush.  “Blood on this.”

He turned to *Lyall.  “Bring a tracker, but not one of the Golls.”  

When*Lyall approached, he had the small one with him; the one that had climbed the tree.  Can*ly nodded in approval.  He had nicely anticipated what the Master wanted.  He handed the claw to *Lyall, keeping his touch away from the bloodied talons.  

*Lyall took it just as carefully and offered it to the tracker to scent.  Crouching before his handler, the stringy little creature stretched up and sniffed.  Nose wrinkling, it lifted its lips as it sank back, hissing.  Again, the animal whispered, “Fur…y…an.”  The hatred in its voice was clear.  It licked its chops and grinned, “Wounded now.  Goood.”

Not long after, they lost his trail completely.  Weaving across the hillside, the Rykengoll howled in frustration.  Finally Can*ly had the handlers rein in the pack and he went to confer with the prince.  

“They’ve lost his track, Ryngal.  Not surprising; he’s been keeping to rock since the demon wing.  And he must be carrying *Lyliath again; I’ve seen no sign of her prints since then, either.”  Looking intently into the prince’s eyes, the Master asked him a hard question.  “What do you wish, my prince?  Evening approaches and we must make camp soon.  Do we continue on, guessing his path?”

Sighing heavily, exhausted and dispirited, Ryngal dropped onto the boulder he stood beside.  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and let his head fall into his hands.  Scrubbing his face, his voice was muffled as he moaned, “What choice do I have?  I can’t just leave her to him.”  Lifting his eyes to his friend when the other gripped his shoulder, “I hate the thought, but perhaps you were right, Can*ly.  We… I can’t just turn him loose.  He will come back for us, won’t he?  And we’ll never see it coming.”

Tightening his lips at his friend’s pain, the Master nodded silently.   _ What could he say?  If only he had listened earlier, before it was too late.  _   He turned and gave the orders to make camp.  They would continue on in the morning.

Morning was not far off, but had yet to arrive when Riddick shushed *Lyliath.  He froze in place, still lying half on her, keeping her pinned as he listened to the careful sounds of people cautiously approaching.  Slowly turning his head back toward the river, he could see pinpricks of light bobbing closer. 

She squirmed under him, trying to free herself.  If he stayed like this much longer, she was going to go insane.  His body, so hard and hot against hers; and his scent was driving her wild.  Mentally she knew it was impossible, he would damage her irreparably, but her body didn’t care, just wanted more of him.  All of him.  She could feel how hard he was, his erection pressing against her thigh. 

Mumbling into his hand over her mouth, she whispered, “Riddick, off.  Please.  You’re making me crazy.”  He scowled without turning back, but eased to one side.   She sighed quietly in relief. 

Sitting up, she silently wrapped herself in her cloak, the loss of his heat making her shiver.  He reached behind himself and just as quietly lifted the skin and shrugged it on.  Now even *Lyliath could hear voices murmuring low.  

"It came from this direction.  Can’t be far.” 

A second voice wondered, “You think it’s them?  The ones from the cliff.  That sure didn’t sound like anything human.”  Riddick growled deep in his chest, the angry rumble hardly audible. 

“Don’t know, but we’ll find out soon… if you’re chattering hasn’t scared ‘em off already.”  The third was no more than an angry, whispered hiss.  The big man rose to a crouch, tension evident in the set of his shoulders and the fierce scowl as he tracked the people passing their lair.  He clenched his remaining shiv tightly in his left fist. 

*Lyliath put her hand on his arm and shook her head no.  She wanted no one hurt and he seemed all too ready to cause plenty of damage.  He growled again, louder this time. 

“What was that?”  The searchers stopped, listening.   _ Somebody has good ears,  _ the big man thought.   _ Figures.  Just my luck.  _

“It came from right back there.  Under the firs.  You see anything?”  The searchers were all peering their direction, lights held high to avoid blinding themselves.

“Shit!  What if it’s one o’ them big cats?”  Riddick’s head snapped up and he frowned fiercely.  Why did he know that voice?  And he didn’t care for the owner, either.  He knew that as well.

“No, that was no cat.  I’ve never heard anything from this world sound like that.”

He saw two of the shadowy figures look at each other.  One shrugged and the other shook its head in negation.  “No fucking way, man.  You saw what was left o’ that ship.”

Lifting his head slightly, he inhaled deeply, cataloging the scents.  At least three natives, but the other two… they smelled like… mercs.  Suddenly his nightmare came into clear focus.  These were the ones he’d been fleeing.  Perry and Donovan.

Before he could stop her, Lyliath had risen and stumbled out from under the branches.  She reached up, pushing back the hood and faced the searchers.  Riddick sank down, deeper into the shadows.  Just watching; what in all hells did she think she was doing?

“Help me.  Please.”  She extended one hand beseechingly to the group of men.  

“Ancestors!  It’s a woman!”  She took two halting steps and stopped.  

“Please, my wrist; I think it’s broken.  And I’m thirsty and hungry.  I’ve been wandering this forest for days.  Where am I?”  She sobbed hysterically.  Reacting to her apparent helplessness as men have always reacted to a crying woman, they moved forward, surrounding her and peppering her with questions.  Someone offered her a flask. 

“How did you get here?  Who are you?  Where did you come from?  Are you alone?  Why were you wandering the woods?”  Her head swiveled back and forth, unable to keep track of who asked which question.  Until one of the strangers, she recognized two of them as aliens, spoke.

“Where’s th’ big guy, Sweetheart?  Th’ one carried ya down th’ cliff?”  

Lyliath turned to stare at him.  She frowned.  “And just who might you be, Sir?  Why should you concern yourself with a tracker?”

This brought on another spate of questions.  And now, concern.  “A tracker!  You’re traveling with a  **tracker** ?  Whose?  Who  **are** you?  Why have you come here?”  And over all the others, the alien’s snide voice.  “Tracker?  Don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout no ‘tracker’.  I jus’ wanna know where Riddick is.”

Lifting her chin and straightening to her full 4’10’’ inches, she declared proudly, “I am Lady *Lyliath Rynsil and I flee the prince’s justice.  I have been condemned for treason and heresy.” 

The others all reacted in shock, but before any more questions came, she put up her good hand.  “The tracker was his, but managed to free himself.  He is the reason I was able to find you.  The only reason.  He kept me alive and safe this past week.  He would be an invaluable asset to your cause.  If you would be willing to allow us to join you.”

“Oh, he ain’t joining nothing, Sweetheart.  He’s mine.  Now where is he?”  The bigger merc grabbed her by the upper arm and swung her to face him.  Even as the rebels protested the merc’s rough handling of a lady, his head snapped up and he released her.

Both aliens came to sharp attention, going back to back and lifting their weapons to the ready.  The deep, angry growl reverberated up and down the narrow canyon, making it impossible for them to determine its source.  

“Damn it!  Where th’ fuck is ‘e?  You see anything?”  They peered around, obviously more scared for their own skins at the moment than wanting to recapture him.

*Lyliath smiled nastily.  “So, you fear him, too?  Good!  You should be afraid.”  She looked them up and down, and snorted delicately.  “He is twice the man either of you are.” 

She turned to the man who appeared to be the rebel leader.  “You must not allow these… people to take him.  You cannot.  If only because he holds much information you will find very useful.”  The rebels moved between the tiny woman and the aliens.

Riddick chose that moment to show himself, pushing through the fir branches and standing at his full height to glare down on everyone.  He deliberately turned his face so the light of the moons shone full on him.  Mercury eyes glittering in the dark; cold, angry expression on his face, it and his muscular chest delineated by the carmine light; even the mercs gasped in shock.  

He growled again, even deeper than before and everyone instinctively stepped back.  Except *Lyliath, who only smiled and went to him, holding out her good hand. 

“Come, Riddick.  Come with me and meet the best of my people.”  


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** PLEASE NOTE *** very graphic descriptions of rape and death. This chapter is very dark. If gore upsets you, you might want to skip it.

                                                                              VII

The big Furyan dropped his eyes to the tiny woman reaching for him.  He shook his head no once, and stepped back away from her outstretched hand.  Returning his glowing, silver stare to the two aliens, he hissed, “Mercs,” and lifted his arm horizontally across his chest, shiv point first toward them.  

*Lyliath, concerned by the tension she read in her savior’s body, turned back to the rebels.  Looking to the eldest, who appeared to be in charge, she asked, “Sir, you lead these people?  Or at least speak for them?  Will you guarantee his safety if he agrees to come among you?” 

She glanced at the two mercs who still had their weapons trained on Riddick, as tense as he, but a lot more nervous.  “These people are apparently not friendly to him.”  Lifting her chin proudly, she added, “And thus also not to me.” 

“Forgive me, my Lady.  I am Jareth.  And yes, we will offer asylum to you both.  At the least until we find out exactly what is going on here.”  He frowned thoughtfully at Donovan and Perry, then looked back to the Furyan.  “You are wounded, sir.  That needs to be cleaned out and stitched. You probably should be dosed with an anti-infective, as well.  That’s fairly nasty looking.  What happened?” 

When Riddick said nothing, only tipping his head slightly to the side and frowning, Lyliath replied for him.  “I was almost attacked by an anhangapteris.  He literally brought it down out of the sky.  But it caught him with one of its claws.  We had to cut it out of his chest.” 

At everyone’s unbelieving reactions, she frowned and prepared to explain further.  Before she could speak, Jareth cut in.  “Were you not who you say, Lady; and had I not seen your tracker…”   

“His name is Riddick!”  She interjected, angry.  “He belongs to no one!”  

Jareth bowed his head, “Again, I beg forgiveness.  Had I not seen… Riddick… climb the cliff with you on his back, I would find your tale most improbable.”  He looked directly at the Furyan now. “You will definitely need medicating. Demon wings are carrion eaters as much as hunters.  The talons will have been swarming with sickness.  Come, come let us doctor you before infection sets in.”  He lifted a hand, making come this way motions.  

At the big man’s continued scowl and lack of forward movement, Jareth sighed and assured him, “We will see to it that you and these two remain separated until everyone’s stories are heard and compared.  Only then will any decision be made.”

Now allowing *Lyliath to take his empty hand, he growled, “Ain’t goin’ back.  No matter what ‘decision’ you all make.”  But he let her lead him along the path back to the rebel encampment, though they kept all the insurgents between them and the mercs.  

As soon as they arrived, an announcement was made as to who was joining the camp.  People kept coming over and greeting *Lyliath, offering her food and drink, a family insisted she come into their shelter to bathe and her clothes were replaced with clean, more feminine attire.  

Jareth took Riddick to their healer for treatment and they cleaned him up, gave him clothing as well.  It took a little longer as nothing available would fit without major alterations due to his size. 

But several of the women were quite pleased to fit him and sew an outfit.  They seemed to find it amusing to repeatedly measure the shirt and pants for fit and size.  The leader finally shooed them off with an admonition to finish up and stop annoying their guest.  

“Please forgive them, Riddick.  They are all young and unattached.  This season often causes such, ah… inappropriate behaviour.”  

“Mmm.  Blood moon.  *Lyliath told me.”  The big man rumbled, though he seemed more amused than annoyed. 

Jareth sat with him and grilled him the entire time about the prince, his experience with the Master, what things he had noticed in the capitol, the security forces numbers and locations and also what he could remember about his own history and relationship with the mercs.  

By the time the fugitives saw each other again, it was time for the evening meal.  The atmosphere was rather festive as everyone gathered in a large communal tent for food, drink, conversation and companionship.  As *Lyliath had mentioned earlier, the effects of the blood fever were diluted in large groups. 

*Lyliath was given a seat with the leaders, but when she noted that they placed Riddick with the unattached males, she protested.  From where he sat, he heard her quiet complaint and looked up from his meal.  Catching her eye, he frowned and shook his head ‘no’ just once.  

She was confused until he shifted his gaze to her left.  Following his look, she realized the mercs sat only a few seats from her.  Riddick obviously preferred distance. 

Halfway through the meal, and after several glasses of altenberry wine, *Lyliath wondered how her big protector was faring, but when she looked for him, he was no longer in his seat.  She wasn’t concerned until she realized both the aliens were also missing.

Suddenly overcome by a premonition of disaster, she stood, interrupting Jareth’s conversation.  When he turned his face up to her, she worriedly remarked, “He’s gone!  Jareth, so are the others.  This is not good.  We must find them!  They want to take him away.  Cage him again.  He won’t allow…”  

The leader jumped to his feet immediately.  Motioning to several nearby companions, he bade the Lady to remain, it not being safe for her to wander about if violence might be expected.  “We will search them out and make sure your friend is not harmed, Lady *Lyliath.”  He was shocked when she laughed, though she did not sound amused.

“Better you should worry about your alien ‘advisors’, Jareth.  If they attempt to corner him, I fear they will not survive the encounter.”  She shook her head, placing a hand on the rebel leader’s arm.  “Warn your people, Jareth.  Keep their distance from him and do not approach from behind.” 

When the man frowned, she added, “He is Furyan; are you aware of how severely the fever may affect him?  He fights it even now.  It seems to bring out the rage in him as strongly as the breeding urge.  For their own safety, keep them away.”  

“How is it then you are safe with him, my Lady?  You are not mated yet.” 

“I don’t know, Jareth.  He almost… His will is very strong; he freed himself from the Master’s control by simply tearing the collar off, no matter the pain it must have caused him.  If he could do that…” 

“Unbelievable!  I will warn them, Lady.  But, please. Stay here.”  *Lyliath nodded her acquiescence, the rebel leader reseating her before he left at a run.   The searchers split up, quartering the camp but with no success.

One of the younger men suggested perhaps the aliens had returned to their ship.  It was decided to send a pair to check.  That way one could watch and send the other back if help was needed. 

Meanwhile the Furyan was hunting.  He’d seen the mercs, heads together, smirking and laughing.  Then Perry slapped Donovan on the shoulder and slipped out.  Not more than a minute or two later, the second merc snuck away.  Curious, Riddick followed.

It was immediately apparent what Perry’s plans were.  Watching from deep shadow, the big man saw him meet and wrap his arm around a tall, willowy native woman.  She laughed happily at something he murmured in her ear, and the pair disappeared amongst the tents. 

A vivid image of *Lyliath lying beneath him shook the Furyan and he growled.  “Not happening”, he whispered to himself.  He shook his head to dispel the urge and lifted his head to scent the air.  

He needed to find Donovan.  Another blue-eyed devil.  If *Lyliath had seen the expression on his smiling face as he remembered what happened to the first merc, she would have seriously reconsidered his humanity.

The heavy, almost oily scent of shipskin and burnt hydrogen fuel assaulted him from up the valley, past the edges of the camp.  Had to be the mercs’ cutter.  Probably find Donovan there, too. He headed for it, staying to the deepest shadow, passing tents and walking couples like a ghost.

The blond merc had returned to their ship to check the current payday on the big man.  He wanted to be sure they would get the highest cut possible and was negotiating with a couple different slams.  He was getting impatient waiting for a response so he decided to prod them a little. 

He had no idea his conversation was being overheard.  Not until it was too late.  So he remained, leaning forward over the communication panel, unaware.

Riddick’s thoughts were confused at the moment.  This guy was so similar in coloring and build to Johns it had him a little freaked.  He knew Johns was dead; he’d watched him being torn apart, but where and why still escaped him.  

The man in front of him leaned a little further forward, changing channels and his cargoes pulled snug against his buttocks.  The long, lean line of his back was accentuated by his stretching his arm up and the big Furyan’s interest abruptly changed focus.  

_ Apple ass,  _ flashed through the silver-eyed man’s mind and they began to glow.  He took a deep, open-mouthed breath, almost tasting the other man’s aroma.  It made him harden immediately. 

Ever the opportunist, Riddick slipped up behind the merc and snaked an arm around his neck, the other pressed his shiv to the man’s spine.  He growled low right in his ear.  Straightening, the taller, heavier man brought his captive to his toes, held tight to his broad chest. 

Donovan actually squealed in shock.  His arms flailed, then went to Riddick’s forearm as he began to choke from the pressure on his larynx.  Dangling helpless in the Furyan’s embrace, he was sure he was finished. 

He could see the convict’s glowing, hot silver eyes in the reflection from the forward screens.  The man looked up and grinned at himself, watching the merc’s reaction as he slowly lowered his mouth to his captive’s throat and licked from shoulder up to his ear.  

Donovan gasped, wondering if the Furyan was going to just kill him or eat him alive.  But Riddick had other plans.  He growled again, whispering low, “Mmm.  Sweet.  Gonna get a piece o’ this.”

The merc’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when the meaning of that raspy rumble sank in.  He squirmed and kicked, fighting to break Riddick’s hold with everything he had. The big man simply stood still and let him wear himself out, flailing uselessly, beating at him with weakening fists.

Growing tired of waiting, Riddick tightened his arm on the merc’s throat.  Donovan gagged, unable to draw any air at all now.  In another minute, his hands fell from the Furyan’s arm to hang limp at his sides.  

Riddick instantly loosened his grip, he didn’t want him dead yet.  Allowing the unconscious man to lie across the console, the big man stripped his pants to his knees.  He stroked his hand down the other’s ass, cupping it around the cheek almost gently.  Then he slipped the merc’s belt out of his pants and bound his hands together behind his back.

When he began to come around, coughing and gasping, Riddick moved up close behind him, pressing his erection against the crease of Donovan’s cheeks.  The merc froze.  Turning his head to the side, he rasped, “No!  Riddick, no!”  He squirmed; trying to stand, but Riddick just pushed him down with a hand to the middle of his back and laughed evilly.

“You gotta choice, Donny boy.  You can take it now, or I shiv ya in the back first.  And fuck ya while ya bleed out.  Which’s it gonna be, Sweetheart?”  He snarled, letting years of frustrated rage sound clearly in his voice.  

“Fuck, Riddick!  What the hell kinda choice is that?”  The merc snapped back.

“More’n I ever got.”  Riddick growled back.  And he slid his hand up the merc’s ass again, his thumb sliding between his cheeks.  When he brushed it over the heat of Donovan’s anus, both gasped.  Riddick in anticipation of pleasure and the merc in fear of pain.  

“C’mon, pretty boy.  Spread it for me.  Relax and you might get through this and still be able t’ walk.”  The big man chuckled.

“Oh, shit!  Don’t do this Riddick.  I… I’ll turn ya loose; forget I ever saw ya.”  Donovan was sweating and trembling, fear making his voice climb a full octave and quaver like a girl’s.  The Furyan just laughed, a low, nasty sound more like a snarl than amusement. He kicked the merc’s feet further apart, stepping between the other man’s thighs.  

Leaning over Donovan, Riddick whispered in his ear, pressing his erection against the smaller man’s cleft.  “I  **am** free.  And I intend to stay that way.  Ain’t you, Perry or anybody else gonna cage me again.”  

Still pressing the merc onto the console, the big man took his throbbing organ and aimed it at the tight, sweet hole before him.  The merc thrashed but couldn’t move enough to prevent Riddick forcing the head of his cock through the tight ring of muscle. The big man, tipped his head back, eyes closed and sighed, “Ahh!” shivering with need.

Donovan squealed and begged him to stop, shuddering like a whipped horse.  He couldn’t believe the pain; felt like he was being torn apart and branded with a hot iron at the same time.  The fact that he’d seen Riddick naked and knew the size of what was impaling him only made it worse. 

The Furyan chuckled low again, and thrust hard, driving himself in fully.  The merc’s body stiffened at the assault and he screamed, a full-throated wail of agony.  Riddick pulled him upright, sliding the hand he’d held him down with across the merc’s chest, pressing him tight to his own.  

With the other hand, he reached down and captured Donovan’s prick.  The merc was hard, the sudden pressure of Riddick’s cock thumping forcefully against his prostate causing the automatic reaction.

“Well, whaddya know.  You liking this, Donny boy?”  He thrust again, hard, slamming the merc’s thighs against the console.  The man only moaned, his body jerking spasmodically and he shivered again.  Riddick continued to pound himself into the merc, growling fiercely over his whimpers and moans.  And he stroked the other man in time to his rhythm, grinning as he felt Donovan’s cock growing hotter and stiffening more.  

“C’mon Donny boy.  Show me how much you like me fucking you.  Come for me.”  Riddick purred in Donovan’s ear, biting him at the join of neck and shoulder. 

He leaned back, forcing the smaller man down onto his erection even further.  Now wrapping both his arms around Donovan, Riddick slid him up and down his body, slamming him hard onto his engorged cock.  He could feel the tension deep in his gut, the tightening of his sac, drawing it up and making it firm.  He was gonna explode soon and he wanted the merc to get off too.  

Suddenly, all the tension left Donovan’s body and his head lolled back against the big Furyan’s shoulder.  Shivering continuously, he sobbed, “Please, Riddick.  Please.”

“Mmm.”  He purred into the merc’s shoulder.  “Come for me Donny boy.  Come and I’ll stop.”  Riddick released his grip on the merc’s shoulder and whispered, “Look down, Donny.  See how your body betrays you.  Lookit how hard you are.  Stop fighting me.” 

Donovan’s head fell forward momentarily and dropped back onto Riddick’s shoulder.  “Fuck, I hate you.  You goddamn animal.”  He hissed.  “Okay.  I give up.  Please, just stop.”  He bawled, tears of pain and embarrassment at his debasement standing in his eyes.

“Good.  Relax.  It’ll be over soon.”  The big man crooned, continuing to slide the merc up and down the front of his body.  He cocked his hips forward a little more, allowing him to deepen his strokes.  Now at the apex of every thrust, he bumped that sweet spot deep inside the merc’s ass.  

“Oh! God!  Oh, Christ!  Fuck!  Fuck, Riddick!  Please! Fuck me!  Ah, ah, ahh!”

Donovan bellowed and shuddered, his semen spurting straight up to fall back on his belly and the front of his legs.  The big man beneath him growled and suddenly tensed, his arms becoming like iron bands around the merc.  He moaned, biting down hard enough to draw blood, and his body shuddered.  

Still resting on Riddick’s thighs, Donovan felt them tremble even as he endured the pulsing squirt of hot come into the depths of his abused rectum.  The Furyan sighed and released him, making him stagger as his feet hit the ground unevenly, and he fell against the control panel. 

Turning partway, leaning one hip against the console, the merc lifted his head from his hunched position and scowled at his supposed capture.  He couldn’t straighten up yet. 

“Now what, you miserable piece o’ shit?  You gonna slit my throat now?” 

Looking at the merc through hooded eyes, Riddick smiled slow and nasty.  “Probably should.  Think I’ll let ya live with it a little while.  Had fun, Donny boy.  You got a sweet, tight ass.  Maybe I’ll just come back for more.”  Chuckling low, the big man closed his pants and turned to leave.

“Wait!  Riddick!  You can’t leave me like this!”  Donovan sounded panicked, now as much as earlier.  Glancing back over one shoulder, the big man grinned at the sight.  Donovan stood, slightly bent forward, his pants around his ankles, come sprayed all over his belly and legs.  His hands were still bound behind him with his own belt and Riddick’s thick ejaculate and his own blood oozed down the inside of his thighs.

“Sure I can, Donny boy.”  He turned away, intent on checking the living quarters and maybe finding himself a decent blade.  

“You bastard!  Miserable, fucking animal!  I’m gonna castrate you when I catch up with you!”  The merc spat.  He lay forward, his head resting on the console and sobbed in rage and pain.  Riddick’s barking laughter echoed back to him from further into the ship.

Donovan was still bent over the console some time later, he had no idea how much time had passed, when he heard footsteps approach.  It had to be Perry.  He didn’t know whether to be glad of his partner’s return or not. 

He just wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and die.  After he spent about three days scrubbing his skin off.  He could still smell the Furyan all over him and it was making him nauseous.  His belly and legs were sticky from drying semen.  He thought he smelled blood, too and was afraid to look down at himself.

Perry stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of his bloodied, defiled partner.  He simply stood there, staring, unsure of what to do.  He wanted to go cut him loose, cover him up, but felt disgusted too, as if he had been the one assaulted.

Finally he moved closer, whispering angrily, “Jesus, Mary, mother of fucking God!  What th’ fuck happened t’ you?” 

Donovan turned his head away, “Just cut me loose, will ya?  And quit fuckin’ staring!  I feel enough like a piece of shit without that.” 

“Okay, okay.  Hold still.  Uh, you’re bleeding.  You should go clean up.”  Perry murmured, reaching to free Donovan’s arms without coming into contact with any part of the other man’s body.  

“Hah!  Don’ you think I know that?  I’m gonna gut that sonuvabitch.  String ‘im up and feed ‘im his own dick.”  Donovan straightened, moaning.  “Ah, shit!”  When he took a quick peek at his partner, Perry frowned.

“Riddick?”  

“Who th’ hell else d’ya think would do somethin’ like this?”  Donovan bent to pull up his cargoes and moaned again.  “I didn’t hear him leave.  He might still be on board somewheres.  Watch yer fuckin’ back.  I’m gonna go shower.  I stink.”

Perry nodded and immediately took his sidearm from the holster and checked to be sure it fully loaded.  He decided to follow Donovan, but at a slight distance, checking all the doorways they passed, slowing him enough that Donovan had the shower running by the time he got to the head.  

He listened for a moment outside the door, but when he heard the blond merc sob, he swallowed hard and moved on.   _ Give him a little privacy.  He’ll come around okay.  I hope.   _ Perry worried.   _ Damn, he sounds so… so broken.  _

Moving back further, toward the ship’s brig, he stopped, cocking his head to listen.  Had he heard something or was he just imagining it?  The faint sound came again.  Someone opening cabinets.  Rifling through them.  He moved forward slowly, as quietly as he could. 

Seconds before Perry would have peeked around the doorway into the combined cargo hold/brig, he picked up a deep vibration.  Realizing he was feeling as well as hearing it, it took him a moment to understand the sound was Riddick growling.  He’d never heard the Furyan’s voice so deep, so enraged.  He swallowed, screwed up his courage and stuck his head quickly around the edge and pulled back.

Oblivious to everything but the instruments of many hours torture before him, the big man stood before the chains and bit the mercs intended for him.  Hands clenched so tightly that his arms quivered, nails biting into his palms, he breathed so heavily through his nose he sounded like an enraged bull snorting a challenge.  

Visions of many times when he’d been held captive, spread eagle, blindfolded, bit between his teeth for days, unable to move, flashed before his mind’s eye.  He growled again, and shook his head.  He saw himself dropped at various slams, stripped, beaten, deloused with freezing cold antibiotic solutions, stunned and shocked, thrown into gen pop still reeling or injured.  

The tide of abuses continued flickering through his mind faster and faster.  He saw fights, people dying, felt them being crushed between his hands, felt his shivs hit home, smelled the blood and watched it spurt, tasted men’s deaths on his tongue.  

Soldiers, a court-martial, prison, escape, prison, escape, desert, fanged monsters, a blond woman ripped out of his arms, mercs, an ice world, mercs, flight, soldiers, a dark-haired beauty dying in his arms; his head whirled with it.

Suddenly, it became too much for even him to handle.  Both fists pressed to his temples, the big man dropped to his knees and screamed.  He folded up, head on his knees, fists pounding the floor. The ship echoed with the sound of the Furyan’s pain as his full memory exploded through his brain.  

Perry gasped, stunned by what he had seen.  He had no idea what was wrong with the big man, but he was sure he didn’t want to find out.   He never got the chance. 

Riddick heard the slight sound behind him and whirled, rising to his feet like a demon rising from hell.  Eyes flashing blue fire, the print on his chest glowing so bright it could be seen through the fabric of his shirt, he snarled at the merc standing frozen in the doorway.  

“Oh, fuck!”  Perry whispered before he fled.  He didn’t get more than two steps before the Furyan caught him.  Riddick slammed into the shorter, stocky merc at full speed, driving both of them into the opposite wall.  

Stunned, the merc would have fallen save for the fact that he was held up by the hand clenched around the back of his neck.  Riddick bit into the side of his neck and shook him like a dog with a rat, tearing out half his throat. Spitting out the chunk of flesh, he spun the dying merc in his grip and blinked through the spray of blood that fanned in a rainbow-shaped arc across the passageway.  

Still not satisfied; he stuck Perry just above the pubic bone and ripped up viciously, opening the man’s abdomen and spilling his intestines onto the floor.  Thrusting him away, snarling like the animal many claimed him to be, Riddick watched him slide down the wall, a broken doll. Just for spite, he stomped the merc’s spilled guts and howled with insane glee when they burst, spraying him and the walls with their contents.  

Then he went looking for Donovan.  Finding the second merc slumped to his knees, still in the shower; Riddick yanked the door open, grabbed the merc by a handful of hair and slit his throat from ear to ear.  He stood and watched while the man gurgled his last breaths, then calmly cleaned his blade and his arms in the still running shower.

Fleeing the scene of his latest bloody massacre, he headed back toward the rebel camp.  Still enraged, he continued to breathe heavily, panting from the adrenaline surging through his veins.  Looking for something else to kill. The beast rolled and stretched, purring with joy. The Furyan stared up at the full blood red moon and bellowed. 


End file.
